


supernova

by ravensphere



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/F, Fix-It of Sorts, POV Lesbian Character, Rewrite, Twilight Renaissance, Useless Lesbian Vampire, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 88,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26410984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravensphere/pseuds/ravensphere
Summary: She wasn’t the first beautiful girl I had thought about, but I had never let myself get this caught up before. I hadn’t been smart about this; I should have been more worried when I first starting dreaming about her.  What if I considered the situation like I was normal, if I was a boy instead of Bella? Even then, Edythe probably wouldn’t give me the time of day.Twilight but lesbians because that makes so much more sense for them. Inspired more as a Fix-It for Life and Death but ended up as a light Twilight edit. Thank you for coming along on this chaotic ride.
Relationships: Edythe Cullen/Bella Swan
Comments: 32
Kudos: 66





	1. PREFACE

I'd never given much thought to how I would die - though I'd had reason enough in the last few months - but even if I had, I would not have imagined it like this.

I stared without breathing across the long room, into the dark eyes of the hunter, and they looked pleasantly back at me.  
Surely it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone I loved. Noble, even. That ought to count for something.

I knew that if I'd never gone to Forks, I wouldn't be facing death now. But, terrified as I was, I couldn't bring myself to regret the decision. When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it's not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end.

The hunter smiled in a friendly way as they sauntered forward to kill me.


	2. FIRST SIGHT

My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. This is how I would always remember it. My beautiful open desert, endless in size and endlessly warm. I stuck my arm out of the window the whole drive, soaking up the last of the sun that I would have for the foreseeable future.

In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States of America. It was from this town and its gloomy, omnipresent shade that my mother escaped with me when I was only a few months old. It was in this town that I'd been compelled to spend a month every summer until I was fourteen. That was the year I finally put my foot down; these past three summers, my dad, Charlie, vacationed with me in California for two weeks instead.

It was to Forks that I now exiled myself, and while I knew it was necessary it still filled me with horror.

"Bella," my mom said to me - the last of a thousand times - before I got on the plane. "You don't have to do this."

Her face, full of concern every time we had this conversation, looks like mine, except she has short hair and laugh lines. It would be wrong to describe them as wrinkles, her lines tell a story of someone who is living life to the fullest, as opposed to looking back on a long life. Not that anyone ever would call them wrinkles. We’ve been asked if we were sisters more times than either of us could count, and though she pretends not to, she loves it.

I felt a spasm of panic as I stared at her wide, childlike eyes. How could I leave my loving, erratic, harebrained mother to fend for herself? This had seemed like the right thing to do during the months I’d struggled toward this decision. But it felt all kinds of wrong now. Of course, she had Phil now, so the bills would probably get paid, there would be food in the refrigerator, gas in her car, and someone to call when she got lost, but still...

"I want to go," I lied. I'd always been a bad liar, but I'd been saying this lie so frequently lately that it almost sounded convincing now. It was only a half-lie anyway. I didn’t want to go to Forks, but I couldn’t stay in Phoenix. What other choice did I have?

"Tell Charlie I said hi."

"Of course."

"I'll see you soon," she insisted. "You can come home whenever you want -I'll come right back as soon as you need me."

But I knew how much of a sacrifice it would be for her to do that.

"Don't worry about me," I urged. "It'll be great. I love you, Mom."

She hugged me tightly for a full minute. I got on the plane, and she was gone.

It's a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks. I’ve thankfully never been anxious about flying but the hour in the car with Charlie I was a little worried about.

I should give him some credit; Charlie had been fairly nice about the whole thing. He seemed genuinely pleased that I was coming to live with him with any degree of permanence for the first time. He'd already gotten me registered for high school and was going to help me get a car.

But just because he was being nice didn’t mean it would be any less awkward. Neither of us was what anyone would call verbose, probably a necessary thing for living with my mother, but I didn't know what there was to say regardless. He had to be somewhat confused by my decision: I hadn't made a secret of my distaste for Forks.

When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. I didn't see it as an omen- just inevitable. I'd already said my goodbyes to the sun.

Charlie was waiting for me with the cruiser. This I was expecting, too. Charlie is Police Chief Swan to the good people of Forks. My primary motivation behind buying a car, despite the scarcity of my funds, was that I refused to be driven around town in a car with red and blue lights on top. Nothing slows down traffic like a cop.

Charlie gave me an awkward, one-armed hug when I stumbled my way off the plane.

"It's good to see you, Bells," he said, smiling as he automatically caught and steadied me. “How’s your mom?”

"Mom's fine. It's good to see you, too, Dad." I wasn't allowed to call him Charlie to his face.

I had only a few bags. Most of my Arizona clothes were too permeable for Washington. My mom and I had pooled our resources to supplement my winter clothes, but it wasn’t enough for a full wardrobe for weather like this. It all fit easily into the trunk of the cruiser.

"I found a good car for you, really cheap," he announced when we were buckled in. Always safety first with Charlie. He’d probably seen one too many wrecks in his time as Chief.

"What kind of car?" I was suspicious of the way he said "good car _for you_ " as opposed to just "good car."

"Well, it's a truck actually, a Chevy."

"Where did you find it?"

"Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?" La Push is the small reservation for the Quileute people on the coast near Forks. I had vague recollections of time spent on the beach there, but not much else.

"Umm, I don’t think so?"

"He used to go fishing with us during the summer," Charlie prompted.

That would explain why I didn't remember him. I do a good job of blocking painful, unnecessary things from my memory. Though to my father, there seemed to be nothing more riveting than sitting and staring at a lake for hours on end. I stopped that train of thought quickly before I got queasy remembering what happened when he finally did catch a fish.

"Billy's in a wheelchair now," Charlie continued when I didn't respond, "so he can't drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap."

"What year is it?" I could see from his change of expression that this was the question he was hoping I wouldn't ask.

"Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine - it's only a few years old, really."

I hoped he didn't think so little of me as to believe I would give up that easily. "When did he buy it?"

"He bought it in 1984, I think."

"Did he buy it new?"

"Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties - or late fifties at the earliest," he admitted sheepishly.

"Ch - Dad, I don't know anything about cars. I wouldn't be able to fix it if anything went wrong, and I couldn't afford a mechanic..." I wasn’t trying to be picky, I just couldn’t deal with any added costs of an ancient truck always breaking down.

"Seriously, Bella, the thing runs great. They don't build them like that anymore."

_The Thing_ , I thought to myself... it had possibilities - as a nickname, at the very least.

"How cheap is cheap?" After all, that was the part I couldn't compromise on.

"Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift." Charlie peeked sideways at me with a hopeful expression.

Wow. Free.

"You didn't need to do that, Dad. I was going to buy myself a car."

"I don't mind. I want you to be happy here." He was looking ahead at the road when he said this. Charlie wasn't comfortable expressing his emotions out loud. I inherited that from him. So I too looked straight ahead as I responded.

"That's really nice, Dad. Thank you. I really appreciate it." No need to add that my being happy in Forks is an impossibility. He didn't need to suffer along with me. And I never looked a free truck in the mouth - or engine.

"Well, now, you're welcome," he mumbled, embarrassed. Figuring out what a full-time father-daughter dynamic meant for us seemed a little less daunting now.

We exchanged a few more comments on the weather, which was wet, and that was pretty much it for conversation. We stared out the windows in silence.

It was beautiful, of course; I couldn't deny that. Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground blanketed with ferns. Even the air had turned green by the time it filtered down through the leaves.

It was _too_ green - an alien planet.

Eventually, we made it to Charlie's. He still lived in the small, two-bedroom house that he'd bought with my mother in the early days of their marriage. Those were the only kind of days their marriage had - the early ones. There, parked on the street in front of the house that never changed, was my new - well, new to me - truck. It was faded red, with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. To my intense surprise, I loved it. I didn't know if it would run, but I could see myself in it. Plus, it was one of those solid iron affairs that never gets damaged -the kind you see at the scene of an accident, paint unscratched, surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it had destroyed.

"Wow, Dad, I love it! Thanks!" Now my horrific day tomorrow would be just that much less dreadful. I wouldn't be faced with the choice of either walking two miles in the rain to school or accepting a ride in the Chief's cruiser. As it stood before I had learned about the truck, I was planning on choosing the walk.

"I'm glad you like it," Charlie said gruffly, embarrassed again.

It took only one trip to get all my stuff upstairs. I got the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard. The room was familiar; it had belonged to me since I was born. The wooden floor, the light blue walls, the peaked ceiling, the yellowed lace curtains around the window -these were all a part of my childhood. The only changes Charlie had ever made were switching the crib for a bed and adding a desk as I grew. The desk now held a secondhand computer, with the phone line for the modem stapled along the floor to the nearest phone jack. This was a stipulation from my mother so we could stay in touch easily. The rocking chair from my baby days was still in the corner next to a small bookshelf.

There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which I would have to share with Charlie. I was trying not to dwell too much on that fact.

One of the best things about Charlie is he doesn't hover. He left me alone to unpack and get settled, a feat that would have been altogether impossible for my mother. It was nice to be alone, not to have to smile and look pleased; a relief to stare dejectedly out the window at the sheeting rain and let just a few tears escape. No full-blown sobs just yet, I would save that for bedtime when I would have to think about the coming morning.

Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty-seven - now fifty-eight - students; there were more than seven hundred people in my junior class alone back home. All of the kids here had grown up together - their grandparents had been toddlers together.

I would be the new girl from the big city, a curiosity, a freak. Maybe, if I looked like a girl from Phoenix should, I could work this to my advantage. But physically, I had never fit in there. I should be tan, sporty, blonde - a volleyball player, or a cheerleader, perhaps - all the things that go with living in the valley of the sun.

Instead, I was ivory-skinned, without even the excuse of blue eyes or red hair, despite the constant sunshine. I had always been slender, but obviously not an athlete; I didn't have the necessary hand-eye coordination to play sports without humiliating myself - and harming both myself and anyone else who stood too close.

When I finished putting my clothes in the old pine dresser, I took my bag of bathroom necessities and went to the communal bathroom to clean myself up after the day of travel. I looked at my face in the mirror as I brushed through my tangled, damp hair. Maybe it was the light, but already I looked sallower, unhealthy. My skin could be pretty sometimes, but it all depended on color. I had no color here.

Facing my pallid reflection in the mirror, I was forced to admit that I was lying to myself. It wasn't just physically that I'd never fit in. And if I couldn't find a niche in a school with three thousand people, what were my chances here?

I didn't relate well to people my age. Maybe the truth was that I didn't relate well to people, period. Even my mother, who I was closer to than anyone else on the planet, was never in harmony with me, never on exactly the same page. Who could blame her? Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe what everyone else saw as red was what I saw as green. Maybe I smelled vinegar when they smelled coconut. What was natural to me seemed foreign to them, and vice versa. Maybe there was just a glitch in my brain. Really, the cause didn't matter. All that mattered was the effect. And tomorrow would be just the beginning.

I didn't sleep well that night, even after I was done crying. The constant whooshing of the rain and wind across the roof wouldn't fade into the background. I pulled the faded old quilt over my head and later added the pillow, too. But I couldn't fall asleep until after midnight when the rain finally settled into a quieter drizzle.

Thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning, and I could feel the claustrophobia creeping up on me. You could never see the sky here; it was like a cage.

Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. He wished me good luck at school. I thanked him, knowing his hope was wasted. Even in the best of scenarios, good luck tended to avoid me. Charlie left first, off to the police station that had become his wife and family after my mom’s departure. After he left, I sat at the old square oak table in one of the three unmatching chairs and examined his small kitchen, with its dark paneled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor. Nothing was changed. My mother had painted the cabinets eighteen years ago in an attempt to bring some sunshine into the house. Over the small fireplace in the adjoining handkerchief-sized family room was a row of pictures. First a wedding picture of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas, then one of the three of us in the hospital after I was born, taken by a helpful nurse, followed by the procession of my school pictures up to last year's. Those were embarrassing to look at - I would have to see what I could do to get Charlie to put them somewhere else, at least while I was living here.

It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize that Charlie had never gotten over my mom. It made me uncomfortable.

I didn't want to be too early for school, but I couldn't stay in the house anymore. I donned my jacket - thick, non-breathing plastic, like a biohazard suit -and headed out into the rain.

It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak me through immediately as I reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eave by the door, and locked up. The sloshing of my new waterproof boots was unnerving. I missed the normal crunch of gravel as I walked. I couldn't pause and admire my truck again as I wanted; I was in a hurry to get out of the misty wet that swirled around my head and clung to my hair under my hood.

Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. Either Billy or Charlie must have cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled faintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. It wasn’t an unpleasant mixture of scents. If I was in lighter spirits I might even call it cozy. The engine started quickly, to my relief, but loudly: roaring to life and then idling at top volume. Well, a truck this old was bound to have some flaws. The antique radio worked, a plus that I hadn't expected.

Finding the school wasn't difficult, though I'd never been there before. The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. It wasn’t obvious at first that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it to be the Forks High School, made me stop. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-colored bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn't see its size at first. It seemed more akin to a set of government offices than an educational institution.

I parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading FRONT OFFICE. No one else was parked there, so I was sure it was off-limits, but I decided I would get directions inside instead of circling around in the rain like an idiot. I stepped unwillingly out of the toasty truck cab and walked down a little stone path lined with dark hedges.

Inside, it was brightly lit and warmer than I'd hoped. The office was small; a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly. It was clear this décor hadn’t been changed since the 70s. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots as if there wasn't enough greenery outside. The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a middle-aged, red-haired woman wearing glasses. She was wearing a purple t-shirt, which immediately made me feel overdressed.

The red-haired woman looked up. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Isabella Swan," I informed her and saw the immediate awareness light her eyes. I was expected, a topic of gossip no doubt. Daughter of the Chief's flighty ex-wife, come home at last. I cringed thinking of what expectations the town undoubtedly had for me at this point. 

"Of course," she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for. "I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school." She brought several sheets to the counter to show me.

She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at me and hoped, like Charlie, that I would like it here in Forks. I smiled back as convincingly as I could.

When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive. It was easy enough to follow the flow of traffic around the school. I was glad to see that most of the cars were older like mine, nothing flashy. At home, I'd lived in one of the few lower-income neighborhoods that were included in the Paradise Valley District. It was a common thing to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot. The nicest car here was a shiny Volvo, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I was in a spot so the thunderous volume wouldn't draw attention to me.

I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it now. Getting lost would be a secondary embarrassment to walking around with it stuck in front of my nose all day. I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath. I can do this, I lied to myself feebly. No one was going to bite me. I finally exhaled and stepped out of the truck.

I kept my face pulled back into my hood as I walked to the sidewalk, crowded with teenagers. My plain black jacket didn't stand out, I noticed with relief.

Once I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black "3" was painted on a white square on the east corner. I felt my breathing gradually creeping toward hyperventilation as I approached the door. I tried holding my breath as I followed two unisex raincoats through the door.

The classroom was small, which I should have expected, but imagining how small this school would be was one thing. Experiencing it was another. The people in front of me stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. I copied them. They were two girls, one a porcelain-colored blonde, the other also pale, with light brown hair. At least my skin wouldn't be a standout here.

I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawked at me when he saw my name - not an encouraging response - and of course, I flushed tomato red. But at least he sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class. It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me in the back, but somehow, they managed. I kept my eyes down on the reading list the teacher had given me. It was fairly basic: Bronte, Shakespeare, Woolf, Faulkner. I'd already read everything. That was comforting... and boring. I wondered if my mom would send me my folder of old essays, or if she would think that was cheating. I went through different arguments with her in my head while the teacher droned on.

When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk to me.

"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?" He looked like the overly helpful, chess club type.

"Bella," I corrected. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at me.

"Where's your next class?" he asked.

I had to check in my bag. "Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building six."

There was nowhere to look without meeting curious eyes.

"I'm headed toward building four, I could show you the way..." Definitely over-helpful. "I'm Eric," he added.

I smiled tentatively. "Thanks."

We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. I could have sworn several people behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop. Maybe I was just paranoid.

"So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?" he asked.

"Very."

"It doesn't rain much there, does it?"

"Three or four times a year at most."

"Wow, what must that be like?" he wondered.

"Sunny," I told him.

"You don't look very tan."

"Oh, you know, my mother is part albino."

He studied my face apprehensively, and I tried to crack a smile, but I could tell it was too late. It looked like clouds and a sense of humor didn't mix. A few months of this and I'd forget how to use sarcasm.

We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Eric walked me right to the door, though it was clearly marked.

"Well, good luck," he said as I touched the handle. "Maybe we'll have some other classes together." He sounded hopeful.

I nodded towards him as he left and went inside.

The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. My Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, who I would have hated anyway just because of the subject he taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. I stammered, blushed, and tripped over my own boots on the way to my seat.

After two classes, I started to recognize several of the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. I tried to be diplomatic, but mostly I just lied a lot. At least I never needed the map.

One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than my five feet four inches, but her wildly curly dark hair made up a lot of the difference between our heights. I couldn't remember her name, so I smiled and nodded as she prattled about teachers and classes. It was probably helpful information, but I was already overwhelmed as it was.

We sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, who she introduced to me. I forgot all their names as soon as she spoke them. They seemed impressed by her bravery in speaking to me. The boy from English, Eric, waved at me from across the room.

It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with seven curious strangers, that I first saw them.

They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as possible in the long room. There were five of them. They weren't talking, and they weren't eating, though they each had a tray with a random assortment of food in front of them; all untouched. They weren't gawking at me, unlike most of the other students, so it was safe to stare at them without fear of meeting an excessively interested pair of eyes. But it was none of these things that caught, and held, my attention.

They didn't look anything alike. There were two boys; one was big - muscled like a serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. The other was taller, leaner, but still muscular, and honey blond. There was something intense about him, edgy even, but I couldn’t place it.

The girls were more distinct from each other. One was tall, statuesque. She had a beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, the kind that made every girl around her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the same room. Her hair was golden, gently waving to the middle of her back. The kind of girl that made me wonder if I wanted to be her or be with her. Another was her opposite; both short and thin in the extreme, pixie-like, with small features. Her hair was a deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction. The last girl was in between the two others in stature, with hair somewhere between red and brown, but different than either, kind of metallic somehow, a bronze-y sort of color. She looked younger than the first girl and certainly younger than the two boys, who I could have easily mistaken for college students.

They were totally different, and yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Paler than me, the albino. They all had very dark eyes despite the range in hair tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes - purplish, bruise-like shadows. As if they were all suffering from a sleepless night, or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Except that their noses, all their features, were straight, perfect, angular.

But all of this was not why I couldn't look away.

I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. Or painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful - either the perfect blonde or the bronze-haired girl.

They were all looking away - away from each other, away from the other students, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell. As I watched, the small girl rose with her tray -unopened soda, unbitten apple - and walked away with a quick, graceful lope that belonged on a runway. I watched, amazed at her lithe dancer's step, till she dumped her tray and glided through the back door, faster than I would have thought possible. My eyes darted back to the others, who sat unchanging.

"Who are they?" I asked the girl from my Spanish class, whose name I'd forgotten.

As she looked up to see who I meant - though already knowing, probably, from my tone - suddenly she looked at her, the bronze haired one, the youngest, perhaps. She looked at my neighbor for just a fraction of a second, and then her dark eyes flickered to mine.

She looked away quickly, more quickly than I could, though in a flush of embarrassment I dropped my eyes at once. In that brief flash of a glance, her face held nothing of interest - it was as if she had called her name, and she'd looked up in involuntary response, already having decided not to answer.

My neighbor sucked in a quick breath in embarrassment, looking at the table like I did.

"That's Edythe and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife." She said this under her breath.

I glanced sideways at the beautiful girl, who was looking at her tray now, picking a bagel to pieces with thin, pale fingers. Her mouth was moving very quickly, her full lips barely opening. The other three looked away, but I thought she might be speaking quietly to them.

Strange, unpopular names, I thought. The kinds of names grandparents had. But maybe that was in vogue here - small town names? I finally remembered that my neighbor was called Jessica, a perfectly common name. There were two girls named Jessica in my History class back home.

"They are... very nice-looking." I struggled with the conspicuous understatement.

"Yes!" Jessica agreed with another giggle. "They're all together though - Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live together." Her voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small town. But, if I was being honest, I had to admit that even in Phoenix, it would cause gossip.

"Which ones are the Cullens?" I asked. "They don't look related..."

"Oh, they're not. Dr. Cullen is really young, in his twenties or early thirties. They're all adopted. The Hales are brother and sister, twins - the blondes - and they're foster children."

"They look a little old for foster children."

"They are now, Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen, but they've been with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She's their aunt or something like that."

"That's nice though - for them to take care of all those kids like that when they're so young and everything."

"I guess so," Jessica admitted reluctantly, and I got the impression that she didn't like the doctor and his wife for some reason. With the glances she was throwing at their adopted children, I would presume the reason was jealousy. "I think that Mrs. Cullen can't have any kids, though," she added, as if that lessened their kindness.

Throughout this conversation, my eyes flickered again and again to the table where the strange family sat. They continued to look at the walls and not eat.

"Have they always lived in Forks?" I asked. Surely I would have noticed them on one of my summers here.

"No," she said in a voice that implied it should be obvious, even to a new arrival like me. "They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska."

I felt a surge of pity, and relief. Pity because, as beautiful as they were, they were outsiders, clearly not accepted. Relief that I wasn't the only newcomer here, and certainly not the most interesting by any standard.

As I examined them, the youngest, one of the Cullens, looked up again and met my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in her expression. As I looked swiftly away, it seemed to me that her glance held some kind of unmet expectation.

"The one with the reddish hair, that's Edythe?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I was trying to stifle the pounding of my heart that, for the first time today, was not caused strictly from embarrassment. I didn’t want to broach that subject with this lunch group just yet and risk adding to the grocery list of things that made me “other.” Frankly, I hadn’t planned to address it at _all_ in my time at Forks, but I hadn’t been expecting supermodels for classmates. 

I tried to subtly peek again from the corner of my eye, and she was still staring at me, but not gawking like the other students had today - she had a slightly frustrated expression.

"Yeah, Edythe. Gorgeous, huh?” Still somehow an understatement. “They all keep to themselves. It’s no use talking to them. No one here is good enough for them, apparently.” I wondered if Jessica was a chipper tour guide for them their first day, too. I couldn’t imagine her getting very far if she had tried. Even from a distance it was clear they were standoffish, but I suppose the challenge might have been something that excited Jessica.

I bit my lip to hide my smile, imagining how they might have reacted to her chattiness. I glanced Edythe again. Her face was turned away, but I thought her cheek appeared lifted, as if she were smiling, too.

After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together. They all were noticeably graceful - even the big, brawny one. It was unsettling to watch. Edythe didn't look at me again.

I sat at the table with Jessica and her friends longer than I would have if I'd been sitting alone. I was anxious not to be late for class on my first day. One of my new acquaintances, who considerately reminded me that her name was Angela, had Biology II with me the next hour. We walked to class together in silence. She was shy, too.

When we entered the classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab table exactly like the ones I was used to. She already had a neighbor. In fact, all the tables were filled but one. Next to the center aisle, I recognized Edythe Cullen by her unusual hair, sitting next to that single open seat.

My heartbeat picked up again.

As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip signed, I was watching her surreptitiously. Just as I passed, she suddenly went rigid in her seat. She stared at me again, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on her face - it was hostile, furious. I looked away quickly, shocked, going red again. I stumbled over a book in the walkway and had to catch myself on the edge of a table. The girl sitting there giggled.

I'd noticed that her eyes were black - coal black.

Mr. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no-nonsense about introductions. I could tell we were going to get along. Of course, he had no choice but to send me to the one open seat in the middle of the room. I kept my eyes down as I went to sit by her, bewildered by the antagonistic stare she'd given me when I walked in. I considered trying an introduction, but her eyes were locked into a thousand-mile stare, completely facing away from me.

I didn't look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I saw her posture change from the corner of my eye. She was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of her chair and averting her face like she smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, I sniffed my hair. It smelled like strawberries, the scent of my favorite shampoo. It seemed an innocent enough odor. I let my hair fall over my right shoulder, making a dark curtain between us, and tried to pay attention to the teacher.

Unfortunately, the lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I'd already studied. I took notes carefully anyway, always looking down.

I couldn’t stop myself from shooting the occasional glance at the strange girl next to me. Throughout the entire class, she never relaxed her stiff position on the edge of her chair, sitting as far from me as possible, with her hair hiding most of her face. Her hand was clenched into a fist on top of her left thigh, tendons standing out under her pale skin. This, too, she never relaxed. She had the sleeves of her white shirt pushed up to her elbows, and her forearm flexed with surprisingly hard muscle beneath her pale skin. I couldn’t help but notice how perfect that skin was. Not one freckle, not one scar.

The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because the day was finally coming to a close, or because I was waiting for her tight fist to loosen? It never did. She continued to sit so still it looked like she wasn't breathing. What was wrong with her? Was this just her normal behavior? I questioned my judgment on Jessica's bitterness at lunch today. Maybe she was not as resentful as I'd thought.

It couldn't have anything to do with me, could it? We hadn’t even spoken a word; she didn’t know the first thing about me.

I peeked up at her one more time and regretted it. She was glaring down at me again, her black eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched away from her, shrinking against my chair, the phrase “if looks could kill” suddenly ran through my mind.

At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jump, and Edythe Cullen was out of her seat. Fluidly she rose, her back to me, and she was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat.

I sat frozen in my seat, staring blankly after her. She was so harsh. It wasn't fair. I began gathering up my things slowly, trying to block the embarrassment and guilt that filled me, for fear my eyes would tear up. For some reason, all my emotions, good or bad, were hardwired to my tear ducts. I usually cried at any particularly strong emotion, a humiliating tendency. But why should I feel guilty? I hadn’t done anything wrong. How could I have?

"Aren't you Isabella Swan?" a male voice asked.

I looked up to see a baby-faced boy, with his pale blond hair carefully gelled into orderly spikes, smiling at me in a friendly way. He obviously didn't think I smelled bad.

"Bella," I corrected him, with a smile.

"I'm Mike."

"Hi, Mike."

"Do you need any help finding your next class?"

"I'm headed to the gym, actually. I think I can find it."

"That's my next class, too." He seemed thrilled, though it wasn't that big of a coincidence in a school this small.

We walked to class together; he was another talkative one, but I was thankful that he supplied most of the conversation. He'd lived in California till he was ten, so he knew how I felt about the sun. It turned out he was in my English class also. He was the nicest person I'd met today.

But as we were entering the gym, he asked, "So, did you stab Edythe Cullen with a pencil or what? I've never seen her act like that."

I cringed. So I wasn't the only one who had noticed. And, apparently, that wasn't Edythe Cullen's usual behavior. I decided to play dumb.

"Was that the girl I sat next to in Biology?”

"Yeah," he said. "She looked like she was in pain or something."

"I don't know," I responded. "I didn’t talk to her. Is she usually like that?"

"She’s weird." Mike lingered by me instead of heading to the dressing room. "If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked to you."

I smiled at him before walking through the girls' locker room door. He was friendly and clearly admiring. Even if that was a good thing, it wouldn’t have been enough to make me forget the last strange hour

The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform but didn't make me dress down for today's class. At home, only two years of P.E. were required. Here, P.E. was mandatory all four years. Forks was literally my personal hell on Earth.

I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. Remembering how many injuries I had sustained - and inflicted - playing volleyball, I felt faintly nauseated.

The final bell rang at last. I walked slowly to the office to return my paperwork. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was stronger and colder. It felt almost ominous. This town was making me paranoid, and barely one day in.

When I walked into the warm office, I almost turned around and walked back out.

Edythe Cullen stood at the desk in front of me. It was impossible not to recognize her tangled bronze hair. She didn’t seem to notice the sound of my entrance. I stood pressed against the back wall, waiting for the receptionist to be free.

She was arguing with her in a low voice. I quickly picked up the gist of the argument. She was trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology to another time - any other time.

This could not be about me. It had to be something else, something that happened before I got to the Biology room. The look on her face must have been about some other aggravation entirely. Maybe she held a grudge with Charlie? But that didn’t seem likely either. From what I knew about Forks there was hardly any serious crime, if a girl like this had a run-in with Charlie I would have heard about it. It was impossible that this stranger could take such a sudden, intense dislike to me. Utterly impossible.

The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling the papers on the desk, swirling my hair around my face. The girl who came in merely stepped to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket, and walked out again. But Edythe Cullen's back stiffened, and she turned slowly to glare at me - her face was absurdly beautiful - with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt a shock of genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind. She turned back to the receptionist.

“Never mind, then,” she said hastily in a voice like silk. “I can see that it’s impossible. Thank you so much for your help.” She turned on her heel without another look at me and disappeared out the door.

I went meekly to the desk, my face white for once instead of red, and handed her the signed slip.

"How did your first day go, dear?" the receptionist asked sweetly.

"Fine," I lied, my voice weak. She didn't look convinced.

When I got to the truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. It seemed like a haven, already the closest thing to home I had in this damp green hole. I sat inside for a while, just staring out the windshield blankly. But soon I was cold enough to need the heater, so I turned the key and the engine roared to life. I headed back to Charlie's house, barely fighting tears the whole way there.


	3. OPEN BOOK

I’d survived one day in Forks, albeit barely, and I felt marginally better about my chances for the next day. I knew what to expect from my classes, and I had Mike and Jessica helping me still, which was nice. People didn't stare quite as much as they had yesterday. I began to feel like I was treading water, instead of drowning in it.

As steady as I felt about the majority of school, I was absolutely unprepared to see Edythe Cullen again. All morning I was dreading lunch, fearing her bizarre glares. Part of me wanted to confront her and demand to know what her problem was. I acted out a multitude of arguments to my shampoo bottles in the shower. But I knew myself too well to think I would actually have the guts to say anything to her. I made the Cowardly Lion look like The Terminator.

But when I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica—trying to keep my eyes from sweeping the place for her and totally failing—I saw that her four siblings were sitting together at the same table as before, and Edythe was not with them.

Mike intercepted us and steered us to his table. Jessica seemed elated by the attention, and her friends quickly joined us. But as I tried to listen to their easy chatter, I was terribly uncomfortable, waiting nervously for the moment she would arrive. I hoped that she would simply ignore me when she came, and prove my suspicions of her hatred false.

She didn't come, and as time passed I grew more and more tense.

I walked to Biology with more confidence when, by the end of lunch, she still hadn't shown up. Mike, who was taking on the qualities of a golden retriever, walked faithfully by my side to class. I held my breath at the door, but Edythe Cullen wasn't there, either. I exhaled and went to my seat. Mike followed, talking about an upcoming trip to the beach. He lingered by my desk until the bell rang. Then he smiled at me wistfully and went to sit by a girl with braces and a bad perm. It looked like I was going to have to do something about Mike, and it wouldn't be easy. In a town this small, where everyone lived on top of everyone else, diplomacy was essential. Any reasons I gave for rejection would have to be very carefully worded. I had never been enormously tactful and I had no practice dealing someone this overtly friendly.

I was relieved that I had the desk to myself, that Edythe was absent. I told myself that repeatedly. But I couldn't get rid of the nagging suspicion that I was the reason she wasn't there. It was ridiculous, and egotistical, to think that I could affect anyone that strongly. It was impossible. And yet I couldn't stop worrying that it was true.

Luckily for my sanity, I had more important things I needed to attend to after school. Last night I'd discovered that Charlie couldn't cook much besides fried eggs and bacon, and the occasional frozen pizza. I requested that I be assigned kitchen detail for the duration of my stay and he was willing enough to have me take over. I also found out that he had essentially no food in the house. So I had my shopping list and the cash from the jar in the cupboard labeled FOOD MONEY, and I was on my way to the Thriftway.

I gunned my deafening engine to life, ignoring the heads that turned in my direction at the sound, and backed carefully into a place in the line of cars that were waiting to exit the parking lot. As I waited, trying to pretend that the earsplitting rumble was coming from someone else's car, I saw the two Cullens and the Hale twins getting into their car. It was the shiny new Volvo. Of course. I hadn't noticed their clothes before - I'd been too mesmerized by their faces. Now that I looked, it was obvious that they were all dressed exceptionally well; simply, but in clothes that subtly hinted at designer origins. With their remarkable good looks, the style with which they carried themselves, they could have worn dishrags and pulled it off. It seemed excessive for them to have both looks and money. But as far as I could tell, life worked that way most of the time. It didn't look as if it bought them any popularity here.

But it was hard to believe that. The isolation had to be something they chose; I couldn't imagine any door that wouldn't be opened by that degree of beauty.

They looked at my noisy truck as I passed them, just like everyone else. I kept my eyes straight forward and was relieved when I finally was free of the school grounds.

The Thriftway was not far from the school, just a few streets south, off the highway. It was nice to be inside the supermarket; it felt normal. I did the shopping at home, and I fell into the pattern of the familiar task gladly. The store was big enough inside that I couldn't hear the tapping of the rain on the roof to remind me where I was.

When I got home, I unloaded all the groceries, reorganizing the cupboards until everything was in a place that made sense. Charlie’s system was kind of haphazard. I hoped he wouldn’t mind the change. I wrapped potatoes in foil and stuck them in the oven to bake, covered a steak in marinade, and balanced it on top of a carton of eggs in the fridge.

When I was finished prepping dinner, I took my book bag upstairs. Before starting my homework, I changed into a pair of dry sweats, pulled my damp hair up into a pony-tail, and checked my e-mail for the first time. I had three messages.

"Bella," my mom wrote...

_Write me as soon as you get in. Tell me how your flight was. Is it raining? I miss you already. I'm almost finished packing for Florida, but I can't find my pink blouse. Do you know where I put it? Phil says hi. Mom._

I sighed and went to the next. It was sent eight hours after the first.

"Bella," she wrote...

_Why haven't you e-mailed me yet? What are you waiting for? Mom._

The last was from this morning.

_Isabella,_

_If I haven't heard from you by 5:30 p.m. today I'm calling Charlie._

I checked the clock. I still had an hour, but my mom was well known for jumping the gun.

_Mom,_

_Calm down. I'm writing right now. Don't do anything rash. Bella._

I sent that and began again.

_Mom,_

_Everything is great. The flight was forgettable, which is why I forgot to write, sorry about that. Of course it's raining. I was waiting for something to write about. School isn't bad, just a little repetitive. I met some nice kids who sit by me at lunch._

_Your blouse is at the dry cleaners - you were supposed to pick it up Friday._

_Charlie bought me a truck, can you believe it? I love it. It's old, but really sturdy, which is good, you know, for me._

_I miss you, too. I'll write again soon, but I'm not going to be able to check my e-mail every five minutes. Relax, breathe. I love you. Bella._

I had decided to read Wuthering Heights - the novel we were currently studying in English - yet again for the fun of it, and that's what I was doing when Charlie came home. I'd lost track of the time, and I hurried downstairs to take the potatoes out and put the steak in to broil.

"Bella?" my father called out when he came through the door.

Who else? I thought to myself. But maybe he was just checking to see if I even came home.

"Hey, Dad, welcome home."

"Thanks." He stepped out of his boots as I bustled about the kitchen. “What's for dinner?" he asked warily. My mother was an imaginative cook, and her experiments weren't always edible. I was surprised, and sad, that he seemed to remember that far back.

"Steak and potatoes," I answered, and he looked relieved.

He seemed to feel awkward standing in the kitchen doing nothing; he lumbered into the living room to watch TV while I worked. He seemed more comfortable that way, and I was definitely grateful for the space. We were slowly figuring out the best way for both of us to coexist, and it seemed to be going better than I had hoped. I made a salad while the steaks cooked, and set the table.

I called him in when dinner was ready, and he sniffed appreciatively as he walked into the room.

"Smells good, Bells."

"Thanks."

We ate in silence for a few minutes. It wasn't uncomfortable. Neither of us was bothered by the quiet. Another way that we were well suited for living together.

"So, how do you like school? Have you made any friends?" he asked as he was taking seconds.

"Well, I have a few classes with a girl named Jessica. I sit with her friends at lunch. And there's this boy, Mike, who's very friendly. Everybody seems pretty nice." With one outstanding exception.

"That must be Mike Newton. Nice kid - nice family. His dad owns the sporting goods store just outside of town. He makes a good living off all the backpackers who come through here."

"Do you know the Cullen family?" I asked hesitantly.

"Dr. Cullen's family? Sure. Dr. Cullen's a great man."

"They... the kids... are a little different. They don't seem to fit in very well at school."

I was surprised to see Charlie’s face get red, clearly angry.

"People in this town," he muttered. "Dr. Cullen is a brilliant surgeon who could probably work in any hospital in the world, make ten times the salary he gets here," he continued, getting louder. "We're lucky to have him - lucky that his wife wanted to live in a small town. He's an asset to the community, and all of those kids are well behaved and polite. I had my doubts, when they first moved in, with all those adopted teenagers. I thought we might have some problems with them. But they're all very mature - I haven't had one speck of trouble from any of them. That's more than I can say for the children of some folks who have lived in this town for generations. And they stick together the way a family should - camping trips every other weekend... Just because they're newcomers, people have to talk."

It was the longest speech I'd ever heard Charlie make. He must feel strongly about whatever people were saying.

I backpedaled. "They seemed nice enough to me. I just noticed they kept to themselves. They're all very attractive," I added, trying to be more complimentary.

"You should see the doctor," Charlie said, laughing. "It's a good thing he's happily married. A lot of the nurses at the hospital have a hard time concentrating on their work with him around."

We lapsed back into silence as we finished eating. He cleared the table while I started on the dishes. He went back to the TV, and after I finished washing the dishes by hand - no dishwasher - I went upstairs to work unwillingly on my math homework. I could feel a tradition in the making. That night it was finally quiet. I fell asleep quickly, exhausted.

The rest of the week was uneventful. I got used to the routine of my classes. By Friday I was able to recognize, if not name, almost all the students at school. In Gym, the kids on my team learned not to pass me the ball and to step quickly in front of me if the other team tried to take advantage of my weakness. I was more than happy to follow along and stay out of their way.

Edythe Cullen did not come back to school.

Every day, I watched anxiously until the rest of the Cullens entered the cafeteria without her. Then I could try to relax and join in the lunchtime conversation. Mostly it centered around a trip to the La Push Ocean Park in two weeks that Mike was putting together. I was invited, and I had agreed to go, more out of politeness than desire. Beaches should be hot and dry.

By Friday I was totally comfortable entering my Biology class, no longer worried that Edythe would show. For all I knew, she’d dropped out of school. I tried not to think about her, but I couldn’t erase the worry that I was somehow responsible for her continued absence, ridiculous as it seemed.

My first weekend in Forks passed without incident. Charlie, unused to spending time in the usually empty house, worked most of the weekend. He seemed apprehensive to go, but I didn’t mind the time alone. I cleaned the house, got ahead on my homework, and wrote my mom more fake cheerful e-mails. I did drive to the library Saturday, but it was so poorly stocked that I didn't bother to get a card; I would have to make a date to visit Olympia or Seattle soon and find a good bookstore. I wondered idly what kind of gas mileage the truck got... and shuddered at the thought.

The rain stayed soft over the weekend, quiet, so I was able to sleep well.

People greeted me in the parking lot Monday morning. I was still struggling with some names, but I waved back and smiled at everyone. It was colder this morning, but happily not raining. In English, Mike took his accustomed seat by my side. We had a pop quiz on Wuthering Heights. It was straightforward, very easy.

All in all, I was feeling a lot more comfortable than I had thought I would feel by this point. More comfortable than I had ever expected to feel here.

When we walked out of class, the air was full of swirling bits of white. I could hear people shouting excitedly to each other. The wind bit at my cheeks, my nose.

"Wow," Mike said. "It's snowing."

I looked at the little cotton fluffs that were building up along the sidewalk and swirling erratically past my face.

"Ew." Snow. There went my good day.

He looked surprised. "Don't you like snow?"

"No. It means it's too cold for rain." I shook my head. "Besides, I thought it was supposed to come down in flakes - you know, each one unique and all that. These just look like the ends of Q-tips."

"Haven't you ever seen snow fall before?" he asked incredulously.

"Oh, sure.” I paused. "On TV."

Mike laughed. And then a big, squishy ball of dripping snow smacked into the back of his head. We both turned to see where it came from. My eyes darted quickly to Eric, who was walking away, his back toward us - in the wrong direction for his next class. Mike apparently had the same notion. He bent over and began scraping together a pile of the white mush.

"I'll see you at lunch, okay?" I kept walking as I spoke. "Once people start throwing sludge, I go inside."

He just nodded, his eyes on Eric's retreating figure.

Throughout the morning, everyone chattered excitedly about the snow; apparently, it was the first snowfall of the new year. I kept my mouth shut. Sure, it was drier than rain - until it melted in your socks.

I walked to the cafeteria with Jessica on high alert. Mush balls were flying everywhere. I kept a binder in my hands, ready to use it as a shield if necessary. Jessica thought I was hilarious, but something in my expression kept her from lobbing a snowball at me herself.

Mike caught up to us as we walked in the doors, laughing, with ice melting the spikes in his hair. He and Jessica were talking animatedly about the snow fight as we got in line to buy food. I glanced toward that table in the corner out of habit. And then I froze where I stood. There were five people at the table.

Jessica pulled on my arm.

"Hello? Bella? What do you want?"

I looked down; my ears were hot. I had no reason to feel self-conscious, I reminded myself. I hadn't done anything wrong.

"What's with Bella?" Mike asked Jessica.

"Nothing," I answered. "I'll just get a soda today." I caught up to the end of the line.

"Aren't you hungry?" Jessica asked.

"No, it’s okay. Actually, I feel a little sick," I said, my eyes still on the floor.

I waited for them to get their food, and then followed them to a table, my eyes locked on my feet.

I sipped my soda slowly, my stomach churning. Twice Mike asked, with unnecessary concern, how I was feeling. I told him it was nothing, but I was wondering if I should play it up and escape to the nurse's office for the next hour. Ridiculous. I shouldn't have to run away. I decided to permit myself one glance at the Cullen family's table. If he was glaring at me, I would skip Biology, like the coward I was.

I kept my head down and glanced up under my lashes. None of them were looking in my direction. I lifted my head a little. They were laughing. Edythe, Jasper, and Emmett all had their hair entirely saturated with melting snow. Alice and Rosalie were leaning away as Emmett shook his dripping hair toward them. They were enjoying the snowy day, just like everyone else - only they looked more like a scene from a movie, or maybe a painting.

But, aside from the laughter and playfulness, there was something different, and I couldn’t quite figure out what that difference was. I examined Edythe, comparing her to my memory of last week. Her skin was less pale, I decided—flushed from the snow fight maybe—the circles under her eyes much less noticeable. Her hair was darker, wet, and slicked down against her head. But there was something else. I forgot to pretend I wasn’t staring as I tried to isolate the change.

"Bella, what are you looking at?" Jessica intruded, her eyes following my stare.

At that precise moment, her eyes flashed over to meet mine. I dropped my head, letting my hair fall to conceal my face. I was sure, though, in the instant our eyes met, that she didn't look harsh or unfriendly as she had the last time I'd seen him. She looked merely curious again, unsatisfied in some way.

"Edythe Cullen is staring at you," Jessica giggled in my ear.

"She doesn't look angry, does she?" I couldn't help asking.

"No," she said, sounding confused by my question. "Should she be?"

"I don't think she likes me," I admitted under my breath. I still felt queasy. I put my head down on my arm.

"The Cullens don't like anybody... well, they don't notice anybody enough to like them. But she's still staring at you."

“Stop looking at her,” I insisted.

Jessica snickered, but she looked away. I raised my head enough to make sure that she did, contemplating violence if she refused.

Mike interrupted us then - he was planning an epic blizzard battle in the parking lot after school and wanted us to join. Jessica agreed enthusiastically. The way she looked at Mike left little doubt that she would be up for anything he suggested. I kept silent. I would have to hide in the gym until the parking lot cleared.

For the rest of lunch, I very carefully kept my eyes at my own table. I decided to honor the bargain I'd made with myself. Since she didn't look angry, I would go to Biology. My stomach twisted at the thought of sitting next to her again.

I didn't really want to walk to class with Mike as usual - he seemed to be a popular target for the snowball snipers - but when we went to the door, everyone besides me groaned in unison. It was raining, washing all traces of the snow away in clear, icy ribbons down the side of the walkway. I pulled my hood up, secretly pleased. I would be free to go straight home after Gym.

Mike kept up a string of complaints on the way to building four.

Once inside the classroom, I saw with relief that my table was still empty. Mr. Banner was walking around the room, distributing one microscope and box of slides to each table. Class didn't start for a few minutes, and the room buzzed with conversation. I kept my eyes away from the door, doodling idly on the cover of my notebook.

I heard very clearly when the chair next to me moved, but my eyes stayed carefully focused on the pattern I was drawing.

"Hello," said a quiet voice.

I looked up, shocked that she was speaking to me. She was sitting as far away from me as the desk allowed, but her chair was angled toward me. Her hair was dripping wet, disheveled—even so, she looked like she’d just finished shooting a commercial for hair gel. Her perfect face was friendly, open, a slight smile on her flawless lips. But her eyes were careful.

“My name is Edythe Cullen,” she continued. “I didn’t have a chance to introduce myself last week. You must be Bella Swan.”

My mind was whirling with confusion. Had I made up the whole thing? There was no semblance of the hatred she had exuded last week; in fact, she was totally polite now. She was poised, waiting for me to speak, but I couldn’t think of anything normal to say.

“H-how do you know my name?” I stammered.

She laughed softly. “Oh, I think everyone knows your name. The whole town’s been waiting for you to arrive.”

I grimaced. I had suspected as much already, but it still wasn’t pleasant to hear.

"No," I persisted, realizing I probably wasn’t making any sense. "I meant, why did you call me Bella?"

She seemed confused. "Do you prefer Isabella?"

"No, I like Bella," I said. "But I think Charlie - I mean my dad - must call me Isabella behind my back - that's what everyone here seems to know me as," I tried to explain, kicking myself for not just letting it go.

"Oh." She let it drop. I looked away awkwardly.

Thankfully, Mr. Banner started class at that same moment. I tried to concentrate as he explained the lab we would be doing today. The slides in the box were out of order. Working as lab partners, we had to separate the slides of onion root tip cells into the phases of mitosis they represented and label them accordingly. We weren't supposed to use our books. In twenty minutes, he would be coming around to see who had it right.

"Get started," he commanded.

“Ladies first, partner?" Edythe asked. I looked up to see her smiling a crooked smile so beautiful it all but took my breath away.

“I could start ... if you wish." The smile faded, but only slightly. I wasn’t sure what she was expecting from me, it looked as though she was trying to examine my reaction.

"No," I said, flushing. "I'll go ahead."

I was showing off, just a little. I'd already done this lab, and I knew what I was looking for. It should be easy. I snapped the first slide into place under the microscope and adjusted it quickly to the 40X objective. I studied the slide for a moment.

My assessment was confident. "Prophase."

“Do you mind if I look?” she asked as I started to remove the slide. Her hand caught mine, to stop me, as she was speaking. Her fingers were ice-cold; like she’d been holding them in a snowdrift before class. But that wasn’t why I jerked my hand away so quickly. When she touched me, it stung my hand as if an electric current had passed through us.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, pulling her hand back immediately. However, she continued to reach for the microscope. I watched her, still reeling, as she examined the slide for an even shorter time than I had.

"Prophase," she agreed, writing it neatly in the first space on our worksheet. She swiftly switched out the first slide for the second, and then glanced at it briefly.

"Anaphase," she murmured, writing it down as she spoke.

I struggled to keep my voice indifferent. "May I?"

She smirked and pushed the microscope to me.

I looked through the eyepiece eager for the opportunity to one-up her, only to be disappointed. Dang it, she was right.

"Slide three?" I held out my hand without looking at her.

She handed it to me; it seemed like she was being careful not to touch my skin again.

I took the most fleeting look I could manage.

"Interphase." I passed her the microscope before she could ask for it. She took a swift peek and then wrote it down. I would have written it while she looked, but her beautiful penmanship intimidated me. I didn't want to spoil the page with my clumsy scrawl.

We were finished before anyone else. I could see Mike and his partner comparing two slides again and again, and another group had their book open under the table.

This left me with nothing to do but try to not look at her... but unsurprisingly I failed at that endeavor rather quickly. I glanced up, and she was staring at me, that same inexplicable look of frustration that she had since the very first day. Suddenly I realized what change I hadn’t noticed with the distance in the cafeteria.

"Did you get contacts?" I blurted out unthinkingly.

She seemed puzzled by my unexpected question. "No."

"Oh," I mumbled. "I thought there was something different about your eyes."

She shrugged and looked away.

But, I was sure there was something different. I vividly remembered the flat black color of her eyes the last time she'd glared at me. I had memorized that scowl, replayed it nearly every night while I struggled to fall asleep. I remembered her fists clenched and arms flexed, held that way for what should have been an impossible amount of time. I remembered how quickly her brow had furrowed as I entered, a bizarre mixture of confusion and fury in her eyes. And those eyes, black as pitch. The color was particularly striking against the background of her pale skin and auburn hair. The image was burned into my brain. Today, her eyes were a completely different color: a strange ocher, darker than butterscotch, but with the same golden tone. I didn't understand how that could be unless she was lying for some reason about the contacts. There was no difference in the lighting, just the same soulless overhead fluorescents. Maybe Forks was making me crazy in the literal sense of the word.

I looked down and stole another glance in her direction. Her hands were clenched into hard fists again.

Mr. Banner came to our table then, to see why we weren't working. He looked over our shoulders to glance at the completed lab, and then stared more intently to check the answers.

"So, Edythe, didn't you think Isabella should get a chance with the microscope?" Mr. Banner asked.

"Bella," Edythe corrected automatically. "Actually, she identified three of the five."

Mr. Banner looked at me now; his expression was skeptical.

"Have you done this lab before?" he asked.

I smiled sheepishly. "Not with onion root."

"Whitefish blastula?"

"Yeah."

Mr. Banner nodded. "Were you in an advanced placement program in Phoenix?"

"Yes."

"Well," he said after a moment, "I guess it's good you two are lab partners." He mumbled something else as he walked away. I didn’t think it was anything positive. After he left, I began doodling on my notebook again.

“It’s too bad about the snow, isn’t it?” Edythe asked. I had the odd feeling that she was forcing herself to make small talk with me. Paranoia swept over me again. It was like she had heard my conversation with Jessica at lunch and was trying to prove me wrong.

"Not really," I admitted, somewhat surprised at my honesty. I was too focused on trying to figure out what was going on with Edythe to keep up the positive charade I had been all day. But if she truly had some inexplicable grudge against me it’s not as if my feelings towards the weather in Forks was going to change that either way.

"You don't like the cold." It wasn't a question.

"Or the wet."

"Forks must be a difficult place for you to live," she mused.

"You have no idea," I tried to make the comment a joke, but I couldn’t make my tone lighthearted.

She looked fascinated by what I said, for what reason I couldn't imagine. Her face was such a distraction that I tried not to look at it any more than courtesy demanded.

“Why did you come here, then?”

No one had asked me that—not straight out like she did, demanding.

“It’s… complicated.”

“I think I can keep up,” she pressed.

I paused for a long moment, and then made the mistake of meeting her gaze. Her dark gold eyes confused me, and I answered without thinking.

“My mother got remarried,” I said.

“That doesn’t sound so complex,” she argued, but seemed sympathetic. “When did that happen?”

“Last September.” I couldn’t keep the sadness out of my voice.

“And you don’t like him,” Edythe guessed, her tone still kind.

“No, Phil is fine. Well, a little young, maybe, but he’s a good guy. Good for her.” And he was, truly. Sweet and caring, responsible enough to keep my mother grounded, but adventurous enough that she fell head over heels and stayed that way. I couldn’t have imagined anyone better suited for her.

“Why didn’t you stay with them?”

I couldn't fathom her interest, but she continued to stare at me with penetrating eyes as if my dull life's story was somehow vitally important.

“Phil travels most of the time. He plays ball for a living.” I half-smiled.

“Have I heard of him?” she asked, smiling in response, just enough for a hint of the dimples to show.

“Probably not. He doesn’t play _well_. Strictly minor league. He moves around a lot.”

“And your mother sent you here so that she could travel with him.” She said it as an assumption again, not a question.

Involuntarily, my tone got sharper as I set the record straight. “No, she didn’t. I sent myself.”

Her eyebrows pushed together. “Alright, I don’t understand,” she admitted with a slight smile but seemed unnecessarily frustrated by that fact.

I sighed. Why was I explaining this to her? She continued to stare at me with obvious curiosity.

"She stayed with me at first, but she missed him. It made her unhappy... so I decided it was time to spend some quality time with Charlie."

The last few months before I decided to move were rough on us both, but particularly on Renee. She hadn’t realized the true scope of how much time and travel it was going to take Phil to pursue baseball full time. Home games were easy enough when he was playing for The Arizona League, but that didn’t last long. Training was often out of state, and Phil couldn’t take any time away unless he wanted to completely risk his career, and Mom couldn’t take that much time off from the school either. When Phil was away it was like the life was sucked out of her. Not moping, it wasn’t that level of outward sadness, but it was like she was just going through the motions for my sake. And when I was the one keeping her away from what made her happy…I couldn’t take that level of guilt anymore.

"But now you're unhappy," she pointed out.

"And?" I asked.

"That doesn't seem fair." She shrugged, but her eyes were still intense.

I had to laugh at that. "Hasn't anyone ever told you? Life isn't fair."

"I believe I have heard that somewhere before," she agreed, the corners of her mouth twisting up into a crooked smile.

"So… that's all," I said, wondering why she was still staring at me that way.

She turned so her whole torso was facing me, her golden eyes squinting as if she was trying to search for something behind mine.

"You put on a good show," she said slowly. "But I'd be willing to bet that you're suffering more than you let anyone see."

I rolled my eyes. “That’s a pretty dramatic way to put it.”

"Am I wrong?"

I tried to ignore her.

"I didn't think so," she murmured smugly.

"Why does it even matter to you?" I asked, irritated. I kept my eyes away, watching the teacher make his rounds.

"That's a very good question," she muttered, so quietly that I wondered if she was talking to herself. However, after a few seconds of silence, I decided that was the only answer I was going to get.

I sighed, scowling at the blackboard.

"I’m sorry, I- Am I annoying you?" she asked.

I glanced back at her without thinking... and told the truth again. "No, I'm just annoyed at myself. My face is so easy to read - my mother always calls me her open book."

"On the contrary, I find you very difficult to read." Despite everything that I'd said and she'd guessed, she sounded like he meant it.

"You must be a good reader then," I replied.

"Usually." She smiled widely, flashing a set of perfect, ultra-white teeth.

Mr. Banner called the class to order then, and I turned with relief to listen. I was in disbelief that I'd just explained my dreary life to this bizarre, beautiful girl who may or may not despise me. She'd seemed engrossed in our conversation, but now I could see, from the corner of my eye, that she was leaning away from me again, her hands gripping the edge of the table with unmistakable tension.

I tried to appear attentive as Mr. Banner illustrated, with transparencies on the overhead projector, what I had seen without difficulty through the microscope. But my thoughts were tangled up, replaying our exchange, trying in vain to understand her interest.

When the bell rang, Edythe rushed as swiftly and as gracefully from the room as she had last Monday. And, like last Monday, I stared after her in amazement.

Mike sauntered quickly to my side and picked up my books for me. I imagined him with a wagging tail.

"That was awful," he groaned. "They all looked exactly the same. You're lucky you had Cullen for a partner."

"I knew what I was doing,” I said, stung by his assumption. He seemed offended that I snapped at him, so I backpedaled. “I’m sorry, that came out harsher than I meant. But still, c’mon.”

"Cullen seemed friendly enough today," he changed the subject as we shrugged into our raincoats.

I tried to sound indifferent. "I wonder what was with her last Monday."

I couldn't concentrate on Mike's chatter as we walked to the gym, and P.E. didn't do much to hold my attention, either. Mike was on my team today. He chivalrously covered my position as well as his own, so my ineptitude was only an issue when it was my turn to serve; my team ducked warily out of the way every time I was up.

The rain was just a mist as I walked to the parking lot, but I was happier when I was in the dry cab. I got the heater running, for once not caring about the mind-numbing roar of the engine. I was starting to grow accustomed to the noise. I unzipped my jacket, put the hood down, and fluffed my damp hair out so the heater could dry it on the way home.

As I looked around me to make sure the way was clear, I noticed the still, white figure. Edythe Cullen was leaning against the front door of the Volvo, three cars down from me, and staring intently in my direction. I swiftly looked away and threw the truck into reverse, almost hitting a rusty Toyota Corolla in my haste. Luckily for the Toyota, I stomped on the brake in time. It was just the sort of car that my truck would make scrap metal of. I took a deep breath, still looking out the other side of my car, and cautiously pulled out again. I stared straight ahead as I passed the Volvo, but from a peripheral peek, I would swear I saw her laughing.


	4. PHENOMENON

When I woke up the next morning, I was thankful that I wasn’t met with the unwelcoming sound of rain on my window. I wasn’t foolish enough to expect sunshine, but I had some hope for a dry day despite the clouds that were unavoidable.

I jumped up to look outside and groaned in horror. What awaited me was as dangerous as it was beautiful.

A fine layer of snow covered the yard, whitened the top of my truck, and dusted the road. Though cars had already turned that snow to grey slush on the curb, the untouched snow on the grass reflected the low light making its way through the clouds so the hundreds of crystals looked like stars. I could see now why people made a fuss about the snow. But it wasn’t enough to distract from the hazard it caused. All the rain from yesterday had frozen solid - coating the needles on the trees with icicles like glass ornaments, and making the driveway a deadly ice slick. I had enough trouble not falling down when the ground was dry; it might be safer for me to go back to bed now.

Charlie had left for work before I got downstairs. In a lot of ways, living with Charlie was like having my own place, and I found myself reveling in the solitude instead of feeling lonely.

I scarfed down a quick bowl of cereal and threw my backpack over my shoulders. I was excited to go to school, and that scared me. I knew it wasn't the stimulating learning environment I was anticipating or seeing my new set of friends. If I was being honest with myself, I knew I was eager to get to school because I would see Edythe Cullen. And that was quite possibly the stupidest thing my brain had ever come up with.

I should be avoiding her entirely after my brainless and embarrassing babbling yesterday. She had seemed curious, but there was no sensible way that could have been genuine. Only more reason to be suspicious of her. And why should she lie about her eyes? I was still frightened of the hostility I sometimes felt emanating from her, and I was still tongue-tied whenever I pictured her perfect face. I was well aware that my league and her league were spheres that did not touch and even if they did in some hypothetical universe, what was the chance she liked other girls? Probably zero. So it would be doing myself a favor to forget about her as best I could. Yet I was still anxious to see her.

My truck seemed to have no problem with the black ice that covered the roads. I drove very slowly, though, not wanting to carve a path of destruction through Main Street.

When I got out of my truck at school, I saw why I'd had so little trouble. Something silver caught my eye, and I walked to the back of the truck - carefully holding the side for support - to examine my tires. There were thin chains crisscrossed in diamond shapes around them. Charlie had gotten up who knows how early to put snow chains on my truck. Tears started to well in my eyes as I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. I wasn't used to being taken care of, and Charlie's unspoken concern caught me by surprise.

I was standing by the back corner of the truck, struggling to fight back the sudden wave of emotion the snow chains had brought on, when I heard an odd sound.

It was a high-pitched screech, and as soon as I registered it, the sound was already painfully loud. I looked up, startled.

Edythe Cullen was standing four cars down from me, mouth open in horror. Her face stood out from a sea of faces, all frozen in the same mask of shock. But of more immediate importance was the dark blue van that was skidding, tires locked and squealing against the brakes, spinning wildly across the ice of the parking lot. It was going to hit the back corner of my truck, directly where I was currently standing. I didn't even have time to close my eyes.

Just before I heard the shattering crunch of the van folding around the truck bed, something hit me, hard, but not from the direction I was expecting. My head cracked against the icy blacktop, and I felt something solid and cold pinning me to the ground. I realized I was lying on the pavement behind the tan car I’d parked next to. But I didn’t have a chance to notice anything else, because the van was still coming. It had curled gratingly around the end of the truck and, still spinning and sliding, was about to collide with me again.

“Oh, shit!” She cursed so low under her breath I almost missed it, but the voice was impossible not to recognize. Two long, white hands shot out in front of me, and the van shuddered to a stop a foot from my face, her hands fitting exactly into a deep dent in the side of the van’s body.

Then her hands moved so fast I could swear they blurred. One was suddenly gripping under the body of the van, and something was dragging me, swinging my legs around like a rag doll’s, till they hit the tire of the tan car. Metal against metal screeched, slow and painful as the van settled, glass shattering, onto the asphalt - exactly where, a second ago, my legs had been.

It was silent for one long second before the screaming began. In the bedlam, I could hear more than one person shouting my name. But more clearly than all the yelling, I could hear Edythe Cullen’s low, frantic voice in my ear.

"Bella? Are you all right?"

“I’m fine.” I said it automatically, but it seemed true; no crushed legs, no crushed... all of me. I tried to sit up and realized she was holding me against the side of her body in an iron grasp.

“Why are you-” I started as I tried to move out from under her arm.

“Be careful,” she warned as I struggled. “I think you hit your head pretty hard.”

Apparently, I didn’t spend long enough on the assessment of my injuries. Not squished by the van, but my head against the blacktop had caused a throbbing pain above my left ear that I was only now aware of.

“Oh, ow,” I said, surprised.

"That's what I thought." Her voice, amazingly, sounded like she was trying not to laugh.

Her humor pulled me out of the shock of the moment and I remembered how I ended up on the pavement in one piece instead of several.

“How the…” I trailed off, wondering if the adrenaline was making me confused. I had to get my bearings. “How did you get over here so fast?”

"I was standing right next to you, Bella," she said, her tone serious again.

I turned to sit up and face her better, this time she let me, releasing her hold around my waist and sliding as far from me as she could in the limited space. I looked at her concerned expression and was disoriented again by the force of her gold-colored eyes. What was I asking her?

And then they found us, a crowd of people with tears streaming down their faces, shouting at each other, shouting at us.

"Don't move," someone instructed.

"Get Tyler out of the van!" someone else shouted.

There was a flurry of activity around us. I couldn’t place voices to faces, mostly because I couldn’t see anyone’s faces clearly enough through the twisted metal and broken glass. They were struggling to get through to us. I tried to get up, to help the crowd in the extraction, but Edythe's hand pushed my shoulder down.

“Just stay put for now.”

“But it’s cold,” I complained. Not the most important thing at the moment, but another reason I shouldn’t be stuck here. Once again Edythe suppressed a laugh, but she was less successful this time.

“You were over there,” I suddenly remembered, and her chuckle stopped short. “You were by your car.”

Her expression hardened abruptly, her tone deadly serious. “No, I wasn’t.”

"I saw you." Everything around us was chaos. I could hear the lower voices of adults arriving on the scene. But I stubbornly held on to our argument; I was right, and she was going to admit it before we left this parking lot.

"Bella, I was standing with you, and I pulled you out of the way." Her eyes bore into me, both stern and anxious as if trying to communicate something crucial.

“No. I’m not stupid, Edythe.” I set my jaw, trying to match the severity of her expression.

“I’m not- Please, Bella.” She seemed frustrated now, almost desperate.

"Why?" I demanded.

"Trust me," her pleaded, her soft voice overwhelming.

I could hear the sirens now. I wasn’t going to get her to admit when I wanted her to, so I tried to strike a bargain. "Will you promise to explain everything to me later?"

“Fine,” she muttered through gritted teeth.

“Fine.” I matched her tone and smiled sarcastically. I wasn’t going to let her get away without answering me.

It took six EMTs and two teachers - Mr. Varner and Coach Clapp - to shift the van far enough away from us to bring the stretchers in. Edythe vehemently refused hers saying she hadn’t been touched, and I tried to do the same, but the traitor told them I'd hit my head and probably had a concussion. It looked like the entire school was there, watching soberly as they loaded me in the back of the ambulance. Edythe got to ride in the front. It was maddening. It was a thousand times more embarrassing than I’d imagined today would be, and I hadn’t even made it to the sidewalk.

And because it had to get worse somehow, Chief Swan arrived before they could get me safely away.

He bolted out of his cruiser, recognizing me quickly and yelling my name in panic.

"I'm completely fine, Char - Dad," I tried to talk him down. "There's nothing wrong with me."

He turned to the closest EMT for a second opinion. I tuned them out, replaying the scene over and over again in my head, trying to make sense of the impossible. When they’d lifted me away from the car, I had seen the deep dent in the tan car’s bumper—a very distinct dent that fit the slim shape of Edythe’s shoulders… as if she had braced herself against the car with enough force to damage the metal frame.…

Just before they shut the doors of the ambulance I caught a glimpse of Edythe’s family, looking on from the distance. Their expressions ranged from confused to furious, but none of them seemed particularly concerned for their sister’s safety.

I went through it in my head again… standing one second and flat on the pavement the next… her arms as strong as stone pinning me to the ground… her hand under the frame of the van like she was holding it in the air …

I tried to think of a logical solution that could explain what I had just seen – ideally, I could find a solution that excluded the assumption that I was insane.

Naturally, the ambulance got a police escort to the county hospital. The EMTs questioned me the entire ride, asking if I knew what day it was, what I was doing before the crash, and while I was still considering the possibility I was losing it, I wasn’t that far gone. I realized I was going to have to say “I’m fine” an outrageous number of times today, maybe I should keep count, it could easily be in the hundreds. Thankfully, they seemed to believe me after not too long an interrogation, but they still had to unload me with the stretcher. What made it worse was that Edythe simply glided through the hospital doors of her own volition. Infuriating.

They rolled me into the emergency room, a long room with a line of beds separated by pastel-patterned curtains. A nurse put a pressure cuff on my arm and got started with another round of questioning and I got to add another “I’m fine” to my mental list.

There was another flurry of hospital personnel, another stretcher brought to the bed next to me. I recognized Tyler Crowley from my Government class beneath the bloodstained bandages wrapped tightly around his head. Tyler looked a hundred times worse than I felt. And it was clear he felt pretty awful too.

"Bella, I'm so sorry!"

"I'm fine, Tyler – are _you_ okay?" As we spoke, nurses began unwinding his soiled bandages, exposing a myriad of shallow slices all over his forehead and left cheek.

He ignored me, continuing on his anxiety-fueled apology. "I thought I was going to kill you! I was going too fast, and I hit the ice wrong and I couldn’t move the steering wheel anymore and-and I hit the brakes but it didn’t help and it was going straight for you and-" He winced as one nurse started dabbing at his face.

"No, it’s okay, nobody got seriously hurt. This is, like, the best-case scenario as far as car wrecks go." I tried my best to console him but I knew I would be just as messed up if I were in his shoes.

"How did you get out of the way so fast? You were there, and then you were gone..."

"Umm...” Could I avoid lying and not sound like a lunatic at the same time? “Edythe pushed me out of the way." Technically the truth.

He looked confused. "Who?"

"Edythe Cullen - she was standing next to me." I tried not to wince and hoped I sounded believable. Tyler was probably too distracted to notice how bad of a liar I was anyway.

"Cullen? I didn't see her... wow, it was all so fast, I guess. Is she okay?"

"I think so. She's here somewhere, but they didn't make her use a stretcher."

I knew I wasn't crazy. What had happened? There was no way to explain what I'd seen.

A few moments later they wheeled me away for an X-ray. The nurse agreed with me that I didn’t have a concussion, but they needed to check to make sure I hadn’t cracked my skull. Didn’t make much sense to me how my skull could be cracked and I could feel totally fine, but I wasn’t going to argue with medical professionals. Daughters of medical professionals on the other hand…

But I couldn’t leave to go find Edythe until the doctor reviewed my X-rays. So I was trapped in the ER, waiting, harassed by Tyler's constant apologies and promises to make it up to me. No matter how many times I tried to convince him I was fine, he continued to torment himself. Finally, I closed my eyes and ignored him. Maybe I could get in a nap. He kept up a remorseful mumbling all the same.

"Is she sleeping?" a musical voice asked. My eyes flew open.

Edythe was standing at the foot of my bed, her expression more a smirk than a smile. My instincts betrayed how I was feeling towards her, it took a moment for me to settle into a glare. I was genuinely upset with her, but I doubted if looking at her would ever _not_ take my breath away.

"Hey, Edythe, I'm really sorry -" Tyler began.

Edythe lifted a hand to stop him.

"No blood, no foul," she said, flashing her brilliant teeth in a wide smile. She moved to sit on the edge of Tyler's bed, facing me.

"So, what's the verdict?" she asked me.

"There's nothing wrong with me, but they won't let me go," I complained. "How come you aren't strapped to a gurney like the rest of us?"

"It's all about who you know," she answered. "But don't worry, I came to spring you."

Then a doctor walked around the corner, and my mouth fell open. He was young, he was blond and he was more handsome than any movie star I'd ever seen. He was pale, though, and tired-looking, with circles under his eyes. From Charlie's description, this had to be Edythe's father.

"So, Miss Swan," Dr. Cullen said in a remarkably appealing voice, "how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," I said, for the last time, I hoped.

He walked to the light board on the wall over my head and turned it on.

"Your X-rays look good," he said. "Does your head hurt? Edythe said you hit it pretty hard."

"It's fine," I repeated with a sigh, throwing a pointed look toward Edythe.

The doctor's cool fingers probed lightly along my skull. He noticed when I winced.

"Tender?" he asked.

"Not so bad." I'd had worse.

I heard a chuckle and looked over to see Edythe's patronizing smile. What was her problem?

"Well, your father is in the waiting room - you can go home with him now. But come back if you feel dizzy or have trouble with your eyesight at all."

"Can't I go back to school?" I asked. I was grateful to have Charlie but the last thing I needed was to be babied for the rest of the day. 

"Maybe you should take it easy today."

I glanced at Edythe. "Does _she_ get to go to school?"

"Someone has to spread the good news that we survived," Edythe said smugly.

"Actually," Dr. Cullen corrected, "most of the school seems to be in the waiting room."

"What? No.” He had to be kidding. But there was no humor in his face. “Oh no.”

Dr. Cullen raised his eyebrows. "Do you want to stay?"

"No, no!" I insisted, throwing my legs over the side of the bed and hopping down quickly. Too quickly - I staggered, and Dr. Cullen caught me. He looked concerned.

"I'm fine," That had to be close to the fiftieth time saying that. My balance problems had nothing to do with hitting my head, but that seemed irrelevant at this point.

"Take some Tylenol for the pain," he suggested as he steadied me.

"Thank you, it really doesn't hurt that bad," I insisted.

"It sounds like you were extremely lucky," Dr. Cullen said, smiling as he signed my chart with a flourish.

"Lucky Edythe happened to be standing next to me," I amended with all the fake sweetness I could muster, certain she would understand my tone.

"Oh, well, yes," Dr. Cullen agreed, suddenly occupied with the papers in front of him. Then he looked away, at Tyler, and walked to the next bed. A gut feeling hit and I was certain the doctor was in on it.

"I'm afraid that you'll have to stay with us just a little bit longer," he said to Tyler and began checking his cuts.

As soon as the doctor’s back was turned, I moved to Edythe’s side.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” I whispered under my breath. She took a step back from me, her jaw suddenly clenched.

“Your father is waiting for you,” she said through her teeth.

I glanced at Dr. Cullen and Tyler.

"I'd like to speak with you alone, if you don't mind," I pressed.

She glared—but it wasn’t the same as that first day, not nearly as homicidal, so I just waited. After a second, she turned her back and stalked quickly down the long room. I nearly had to run to keep up. As soon as we turned the corner into a short hallway, she spun around to face me.

"What do you want?" she asked, sounding annoyed. All her laughter and smirking was gone, now she stared at me; deadpan.

Her unfriendliness intimidated me. My words came out with less severity than I'd intended. “You owe me an explanation,” I reminded her.

"I saved your life - I don't owe you anything."

I flinched back from the resentment in her voice. "Why are you acting like this? You promised.”

"Bella, you hit your head, you don't know what you're talking about."

My temper flared now. "Don’t you dare try that. There's nothing wrong with my head and you know it. Just tell me the truth. I want to know why I'm lying for you."

“What do you think happened?” she snapped.

“All I know is that you weren't anywhere near me – you- you were across the lot with your sister- Tyler didn't see you, either, so don't give me that bullshit about hitting my head. You were there in an instant and that van was going to crush us both - but it didn't, and your hands left dents in the side of it - and you left a dent in the other car, and you're not hurt at … the van should have smashed my legs, but you were holding it up..." I sputtered off, knowing how ridiculous it sounded, but I hated that she was trying to accuse me of making it all up. I was so mad I could feel the tears coming; I tried to force them back by grinding my teeth together.

She was staring at me, her eyes wide and incredulous, her jaw just as tense as mine.

"You think I lifted a van off you?" She asked, thoroughly sarcastic. She was laying it on thick. It felt put on, like she was performing.

I merely nodded once.

She smiled, hard and mocking. “Nobody will believe that, you know.”

“I didn’t say I would tell anybody. I’m not going to.”

Surprise flitted across her face, and the smile faded. “Then why does it matter?”

“I would like to know. I don’t like to lie or be lied to. I want there to be a good reason why I'm doing it."

"Can't you just thank me and get over it?" Her voice was full of disdain.

“Thank you." I waited, fuming and expectant.

"You're not going to let it go, are you?"

"No."

"In that case... I hope you enjoy disappointment."

We scowled at each other in silence. I was the first to speak, trying to keep myself focused. My thoughts were scattered by how beautiful her anger was, almost completely distracted by her livid, glorious face. It was like trying to stare down a destroying angel.

“Why did you even bother?”

She paused, and for a brief moment, her perfect face was unexpectedly vulnerable.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

And then she turned her back on me and walked away.

I was so stunned by both the confusion and the fury boiling inside of me it took me a few minutes until I could move. Nothing she said made any sense, but her lack of trust, her inexplicable hatred for me burned me deep.

The waiting room was more unpleasant than I'd feared. It seemed like every face I knew in Forks was there, staring at me. Charlie rushed to my side; I put up my hands.

"There's nothing wrong with me," I assured him. I was still aggravated, not in the mood for chitchat.

"What did the doctor say?"

“That there’s nothing wrong with me. It was Dr. Cullen, he said I was fine and I could go home.” Mike and Jessica and Eric were all there, beginning to converge on us. "Let's go," I urged.

Charlie put one arm behind my back, barely touching me, and led me to the glass doors of the exit. I waved sheepishly at my friends, hoping to convey that they didn't need to worry anymore. It was a huge relief- the first time I'd ever felt that way - to get into the safety of the cruiser.

We drove in silence. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I hardly remembered Charlie was there. I was caught up in Edythe’s strange display of defensive behavior that served as a confirmation of all the bizarre things I still could hardly believe I'd witnessed.

When we got to the house, Charlie finally spoke.

"Um... I’m sorry, you’re gonna need to call Renée." He hung his head, guilty.

I was appalled. "You told Mom!"

"Sorry."

I slammed the cruiser's door a little harder than necessary on my way out.

My mom was in hysterics, of course. I had to tell her I felt fine at least thirty times before she would calm down. She begged me to come home—forgetting the fact that home was empty at the moment—but her pleas were easier to resist than I would have thought. I was consumed by the mystery Edythe presented. And more than a little obsessed with Edythe herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I wasn’t as eager to escape Forks as I should be, as any normal, sane person would be.

I decided I might as well go to bed early that night. Charlie continued to watch me anxiously, and it was getting on my nerves. I stopped on my way to grab three Tylenol from the bathroom. As much as I hated to admit it, they did help, and, as the pain eased, I drifted to sleep.

That was the first night I dreamed about Edythe Cullen.


	5. INVITATIONS

In my dream, it was very dark, and what dim light there was seemed to be radiating from Edythe’s skin. I couldn't see her face, just her back as she walked away from me, leaving me in the blackness. No matter how fast I ran, I couldn't catch up to her; no matter how loud I called, she never turned. Troubled, I woke in the middle of the night and couldn't sleep again for what seemed like a very long time. After that, she was in my dreams nearly every night, but always on the periphery, never within reach.

The month that followed the accident was uneasy, tense, and, at first, embarrassing.

To my dismay, I found myself the center of attention for the rest of that week. Tyler Crowley was impossible, following me around, obsessed with making amends to me somehow. I tried to convince him what I wanted more than anything else was for him to forget all about it - especially since nothing had actually happened to me - but he remained insistent. He followed me between classes and sat at our now-crowded lunch table. Evidently, nothing I said was going to get him to feel better, so I mostly stopped responding, hoping his worry would fade soon enough.

No one was worried about Edythe—no one followed her around or asked for her eyewitness account. I always included her in my version; she was the hero—she had pulled me out of the way and nearly been crushed, too, but all anyone ever said was that they hadn’t even realized she was there until the van was pulled away.

I wondered to myself why no one else had seen her standing so far away, before she was suddenly, impossibly saving my life. There was only one solution I could think of, and I didn’t like it. No one else was as aware of Edythe as I always was. No one else watched her the way I did. How pitiful.

People avoided Edythe the same way they usually did. The Cullens and the Hales sat at the same table they always sat at, not eating, talking only to each other. None of them ever glanced my way anymore.

When she sat next to me in class, as far from me as the table would allow, she seemed totally unaware of my presence. Only now and then, when her fists would suddenly ball up - skin stretched even whiter over the bones - did I wonder if she wasn't quite as oblivious as he appeared.

The last time I'd seen her, outside the ER, we'd both been so furious. I still was angry that she wouldn't trust me with the truth, even though I was keeping my part of the bargain flawlessly. But she had in fact saved my life, no matter how she'd done it. And, overnight, the heat of my anger faded into awed gratitude. I should give her an apology, even if it was only for my tone, and she deserved a proper thanks.

She was already seated when I got to Biology, looking straight ahead. I sat down, expecting her to turn toward me. She showed no sign that she realized I was there.

"Hello, Edythe," I said pleasantly, to show her I was in much better spirits.

She turned her head a fraction toward me without meeting my gaze, nodded once, and then looked the other way.

And that was the last contact I’d had with her, though she was there, a foot away from me, every day. I watched her sometimes, unable to stop myself—always from a distance, though, in the cafeteria or parking lot. I watched as her golden eyes grew perceptibly darker day by day. But in class, I gave no more notice that she existed than she showed toward me, which was none. It was miserable.

She wished she hadn't pushed me from the path of Tyler's van - there was no other conclusion I could come to.

And the dreams continued.

Despite my outright lies, the tenor of my e-mails alerted Renée to my depression, and she called a few times, worried. I tried to convince her it was just the weather that had me down.

Mike seemed pleased by the obvious coolness between me and my lab partner. I guessed he’d been worried that the shared trauma would have bonded us or something. He grew more confident, sitting on the edge of my table to talk before Biology class started, ignoring Edythe as completely as she ignored us. I appreciated his friendship greatly but I was starting to become apprehensive that he was looking for something more.

The snow washed away for good after that one dangerously icy day. Mike was disappointed he'd never gotten to stage his snowball fight, but pleased that the beach trip would soon be possible. The rain continued heavily, though, and the weeks passed.

Jessica made me aware of another event looming on the horizon - she called the first Tuesday of March to ask my permission to invite Mike to the girls' choice spring dance in two weeks.

"Are you sure you don't mind... you weren't planning to ask him?" she persisted when I told her I didn't mind in the least.

“Oh my god, no,” I assured her. I quickly added, “I’m not even going to go.” Not the most important reason, but a factor nonetheless. Dancing was glaringly outside my range of abilities.

"C’mon, it will be really fun." Her attempt to convince me was halfhearted. I suspected that Jessica enjoyed my post-crash popularity more than my actual company.

"You have fun with Mike," I encouraged.

The next day, I was surprised that Jessica wasn't her usual gushing self in Trig and Spanish. She was silent as she walked by my side between classes, and I was afraid to ask her why. If Mike had turned her down, I was the last person she would want to tell.

My fears were strengthened during lunch when Jessica sat as far from Mike as possible, turned completely away from him, and chatting animatedly with Eric. Mike was unusually quiet.

Mike was still quiet as he walked me to class, the uncomfortable look on his face a bad sign. But he didn't broach the subject until I was in my seat and he was perched on my desk. As always, I was electrically aware of Edythe sitting close enough to touch, as distant as if she were merely an invention of my imagination.

"So," Mike said, looking at the floor, "Jessica asked me to the spring dance."

"That's great." I made my voice bright and enthusiastic. "You'll have a lot of fun with Jessica."

"Well..." He floundered as he examined my smile, clearly not happy with my response. "I told her I had to think about it."

"Why would you do that?" I let disapproval color my tone, though I was relieved he hadn't given her an absolute no.

His face was bright red as he looked down again. Pity shook my resolve.

"I was wondering if... well, if you might be planning to ask me."

Oh no. My stomach dropped in horror and shame. I paused for a moment, trying to think of the least painful way to have this conversation. I saw, from the corner of my eye, Edythe’s head tilt reflexively in my direction.

"Mike, I think you should tell her yes," I said.

"Did you already ask someone?"

"No," I assured him. "I'm not going to the dance at all."

"Why not?" Mike demanded.

No way I was going to give Mike all the gory details, and certainly not in the middle of Biology, so I quickly made plans to explain my absence.

"I'm going to Seattle that Saturday," I explained. I needed to get out of town anyway - it was suddenly the perfect time to go.

"Can't you go some other weekend?"

"No, Mike. You shouldn't make Jess wait any longer - it's rude."

"Yeah, you're right," he mumbled, and turned, dejected, to walk back to his seat. I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to push the guilt and anxiety out of my head. Mr. Banner began talking. I sighed and opened my eyes.

And Edythe was staring at me curiously with that same edge of frustration in her eyes that she had on the first day from across the cafeteria.

I stared back, surprised, expecting her to look quickly away. But instead, she continued to gaze with probing intensity into my eyes. I couldn’t have looked away if I wanted to. My hands started to shake.

"Miss Cullen?" the teacher called, seeking the answer to a question that I hadn't heard.

"The Krebs Cycle," Edythe answered, seeming reluctant as she turned to look at Mr. Banner.

I looked down at my book as soon as her eyes released me, trying to find my place. Cowardly as ever, I shifted my hair over my right shoulder to hide my face. I couldn't believe the rush of emotion pulsing through me - just because she'd happened to look at me for the first time in six weeks and two days. I couldn't allow her to have this level of influence over me. It wasn’t normal, it was pathetic. More than pathetic, it was unhealthy.

I tried very hard not to be aware of her for the rest of the hour, and, since that was impossible, at least hide _how_ aware I was from her. When the bell rang, at last, I turned my back to her to gather my things, expecting her to leave immediately as usual.

"Bella?" Her voice shouldn't have been so familiar to me, as if I'd known the sound of it all my life rather than for just a few short weeks.

I turned slowly, unwillingly. I didn't want to feel what I knew was inevitable when I looked at her too-perfect face. My expression was wary when I finally turned to her, her face was unreadable. She didn't say anything.

"What? Are you speaking to me again?" I finally asked an unintentional note of petulance in my voice.

Her lips twitched, fighting a smile. "No, not really," he admitted.

I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly through my nose, aware that I was gritting my teeth.

"Then what do you want, Edythe?" I asked, opening my eyes, trying my best not to roll them at her.

"I'm sorry." She sounded sincere. "I'm being very rude, I know. But it's better this way, really."

"I don't know what you mean," I said, my voice guarded.

"It's better if we're not friends," he explained. "Trust me."

My teeth clenched even tighter. Bold of her to talk about trust.

"It's too bad you didn't figure that out earlier," I hissed through my teeth. "You could have saved yourself all this regret."

"Regret?" The word, and my tone, obviously caught her off guard. "Regret for what?"

"For not letting Tyler’s van crush me when it had the chance!"

She looked completely shocked. She stared at me for a minute, wide-eyed, and when she finally spoke she almost sounded mad.

"You think I regret saving your life?"

"I know you do," I snapped.

"You don't know anything." She was definitely mad.

I turned my head sharply away from her, clenching my jaw against all the wild accusations I wanted to hurl her way. I gathered my books together, then stood and walked to the door. I meant to sweep dramatically out of the room, but of course, I caught the toe of my boot on the door jamb and the books went flying out of my arms. I stood there for a moment, thinking about leaving them. Then I sighed and bent to pick them up. She was there, having stacked them into a pile. She handed them to me, and I grabbed them while trying my best to avoid looking at her.

"Thank you," I muttered coldly.

"You're welcome," she retorted.

I straightened up swiftly, turned away from her again, and stalked off to Gym without looking back.

Gym was brutal. We'd moved on to basketball. My team never passed me the ball, so that was good, but I fell down a lot. I tried not to take people down with me, but I wasn’t always so lucky. Today was worse than yesterday because I couldn’t concentrate on my feet. All I could think of was Edythe.

It was a relief, as always, to leave. I almost ran to the truck; there were just so many people I wanted to avoid. The truck had suffered only minimal damage in the accident. I'd had to replace the taillights, and if I'd had a real paint job, I would have touched that up. Tyler's parents had to sell their van for parts.

I almost had a heart attack when I rounded the corner and saw a tall, dark figure leaning against the side of my truck. Then I realized it was just Eric. I started walking again.

"Hey, Eric," I called.

"Hi, Bella."

"What's up?" I said as I was unlocking the door. I wasn't paying attention to the uncomfortable edge in his voice, so his next words took me by surprise.

"Uh, I was just wondering... if you would go to the spring dance with me?" His voice broke on the last word.

"I thought it was girls' choice," I said, deadpan. I had no more patience to be dealing with this sort of thing today.

"Well, yeah," he admitted, shamefully.

I tried to be cordial and fake a smile. "Thank you for asking me. I'm going to be in Seattle that day."

"Oh," he said. "Well, maybe next time."

I nodded, then winced slightly. Hopefully, he wouldn’t take that as an actual “yes.”

He slouched off, back toward the school. I heard a low chuckle.

Edythe was walking past the front of my truck, looking straight forward, her lips pressed together. I froze for a second. I wasn’t prepared to be so close to her. I was used to bracing myself before Biology, but this was unexpected. I yanked the door open and jumped inside, slamming it loudly behind me. I revved the engine deafeningly and reversed out into the aisle. Edythe was in her car already, two spaces down, sliding out in front of me, cutting me off. She stopped there - to wait for her family; I could see the four of them walking this way, but still by the cafeteria. I considered taking out the rear of her shiny Volvo, but there were too many witnesses. I looked in my rearview mirror. A line was beginning to form. Directly behind me, Tyler Crowley was in his recently acquired used Sentra, waving. I was too aggravated to acknowledge him.

While I was sitting there, looking everywhere but at the car in front of me, I heard a knock on my passenger side window. I looked over; it was Tyler. I glanced back in my rearview mirror, confused. His car was still running, the door left open. I leaned across the cab to crank the window down. It was stiff. I got it halfway down, then gave up.

"I'm sorry, Tyler, I'm stuck behind Cullen." I was annoyed - obviously, the holdup wasn't my fault.

"Oh, I know - I just wanted to ask you something while we're trapped here." He grinned.

No, no, no, no, no. This could not be happening.

"Will you ask me to the spring dance?" he continued.

"I'm not going to be in town, Tyler." My voice sounded a little sharp. I had to remember it wasn't his fault that Mike and Eric had already used up my quota of patience for the day. But there was only so many times “not being in town” was going to work as an excuse. I had figure out a way to let them down gently and permanently.

"Yeah, Mike said that," he admitted.

"Then why -"

He shrugged. "I was hoping you were just letting him down easy."

Okay, lack of patience was now entirely his fault.

"Tyler, I really am going out of town," I said, barely hiding my irritation.

"That's cool. We still have prom."

My face dropped in shock as he was walked back to his car. Not that I could form concrete words, I simply sat there stammering. I looked forward to see Alice, Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper all sliding into the Volvo. In the rearview mirror, Edythe's eyes were on me, crinkled around the edges in a smile. She was unquestionably shaking with laughter as if she'd heard every word Tyler had said. My foot itched toward the gas pedal... one little bump wouldn't hurt any of them, but it could ruin that glossy silver paint job. I revved the engine.

But they were all in, and Edythe was speeding away. I drove home slowly, carefully, muttering to myself the whole way.

When I got home, I decided to make chicken enchiladas for dinner. It was a long process, and it would keep my mind occupied. While I was simmering the onions and chilies, the phone rang. I was almost afraid to answer it, but it might be Charlie or my mom.

It was Jessica, and she was jubilant; Mike had caught her after school to accept her invitation. I celebrated with her while I stirred. It was a short conversation; she wanted to call Angela and Lauren to tell them. I suggested - with casual innocence - that maybe Angela, the shy girl who had Biology with me, could ask Eric. And Lauren, a standoffish girl who had always ignored me at the lunch table, could ask Tyler; I'd heard he was still available. Jess thought that was a great idea. Now that she was sure of Mike, she actually sounded sincere when she said she wished I would go to the dance. I felt bad for doubting her friendship earlier but still gave her my Seattle excuse.

After I hung up, I tried to concentrate on dinner - dicing the chicken especially; I didn't want to take another trip to the emergency room. But my head was spinning, trying to analyze every word Edythe had spoken today. What did she mean, it was better if we weren't friends?

My stomach twisted as I realized what she must have meant. She must see how absorbed I was by her, and she knew what it meant, she already saw through me so easily that one day in Biology: the only time we ever truly spoke. She could tell how I felt and wanted nothing to with that or with me…so we couldn't even be friends.

Of course, she wasn't interested in me, I thought angrily. I was surprised how much hope I had held out for that possibility without even consciously realizing it. She wasn’t the first beautiful girl I had thought about this way, but I had never let myself get this caught up before. I hadn’t been smart about this; I should have been more worried when I first starting dreaming about her. I wiped away tears and lied to myself that it was just because of the onions. What if I considered the situation like I was normal, if I was a boy instead of Bella? Even then, Edythe probably wouldn’t give me the time of day. I wasn't interesting. And she was. Interesting... and brilliant... and gorgeous…and mysterious... and perfect... and beautiful. She was also possibly able to lift full-sized vans with one hand, but I wasn’t even focused on her secret anymore, whatever it was.

Whatever, it was fine. I would have to be fine with it. I could leave her alone. I would leave her alone. I would get through my self-imposed sentence here in purgatory, and then hopefully some school in the Southwest, or possibly Hawaii, would offer me a scholarship. I focused my thoughts on sunny beaches and palm trees as I finished the enchiladas and put them in the oven.

Charlie seemed suspicious when he came home and smelled the green peppers. I couldn't blame him - the closest edible Mexican food was probably in southern California, but he was brave enough to take the first bite. He seemed to like it. It was comforting to watch as he slowly began trusting me in the kitchen.

"Dad?" I asked when he was almost done.

"Yeah, Bella?"

"Um, I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to Seattle for the day a week from Saturday... if that's okay?" I hadn’t wanted to ask permission and set a bad precedent, but I felt rude, so I tacked it on at the end.

"Why?" He sounded surprised, as if he were unable to imagine something that Forks couldn't offer.

"Well, I wanted to get a few books - the library here is pretty limited - and maybe look at some clothes." I had more money than I was used to having, since, thanks to Charlie, I hadn't had to pay for a car. Not that the truck didn't cost me quite a bit in the gas department.

"That truck probably doesn't get very good gas mileage," he said, echoing my thoughts.

"I know, I'll stop in Montesano and Olympia - and Tacoma if I have to."

"Are you going all by yourself?" he asked, and I couldn't tell if his worry was about my social standing or just car trouble.

"Yes."

"Seattle is a big city - you could get lost," he fretted.

"Dad, Phoenix is five times the size of Seattle - and I can read a map, don't worry about it, I promise I’ll be okay."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

I tried to be crafty as I hid my horror.

"That's all right, Dad, I'll probably just be in dressing rooms all day - very boring."

"Oh, okay." The thought of sitting in women's clothing stores for any period of time immediately put him off.

"Thank you though." I smiled at him.

"Will you be back in time for the dance?"

Ugh. Only in a town this small would a father know when the high school dances were.

"No - I don't dance, Dad." He, of all people, should understand that part of the issue- I didn't get my balance problems from my mother.

He did understand. "Oh, that's right," he realized.

I dreaded going to sleep that night. Knowing I had no chance of even friendship with Edythe was hard enough, it wouldn’t do any good to make myself more miserable with dreams of her. But it wasn’t so easy to convince my subconscious to behave.

I wrote another surface-level email to Mom and tried my best to keep my thoughts focused on her as I drifted off to sleep. At first it seemed to work, my dreams were of the two of us, driving the open roads near Phoenix. It was warm and sunny and free, and everything I missed about home. But as we headed to the city and into the Deck Park Tunnel everything started to shift. Instead of sitting in the car with my mother at the wheel, I was standing alone in a dark hallway. It played out the exact same way as the night after the crash, and every night since. Edythe walked away from me, I chased after her, called after her, but nothing I did could make her turn towards me. It continued that way until I woke up, unsure how I would survive pretending I wasn’t completely obsessed with Edythe.

When I pulled into the parking lot, I deliberately parked as far as possible from the silver Volvo. I promised myself I would keep my distance, and I had to start early. She’d have nothing to complain about from here on out.

As I slammed the truck door shut, I fumbled with my key and it fell into a puddle at my feet. As I bent to get it, a pale hand flashed out and grabbed it before I could. I jerked upright. Edythe Cullen was right next to me, leaning casually against my truck.

“How do you do that?” I gasped.

“Do what?” She held out my key while she spoke. As I reached for it, she dropped it in my palm.

“Appear out of thin air.”

"Bella, it's not my fault if you are exceptionally unobservant." Her voice was just a murmur, muted velvet, and her lips were holding back a smile. Like she thought I was hilarious.

How was I supposed to ignore her when she wouldn’t ignore me? That was what she wanted, right? Wasn’t that what she’d said to me yesterday? We couldn’t be friends. Then why was she talking to me? Was she sadistic? Was this her idea of fun—torture the idiotic girl she could never possibly care about?

I scowled at her perfect face. Her eyes were light again today, a deep, golden honey color. Then I had to look down, to reassemble my now-tangled thoughts.

"Why the traffic jam last night?" I demanded, still looking away. "I thought you were supposed to be pretending I don't exist, not irritating me to death."

"That was for Tyler's sake, not mine. I had to give him his chance." She snickered.

"You..." I gasped. I couldn't think of a bad enough word. If she wanted me to leave her alone she had picked the absolute wrong way to persuade me. I was back on the warpath. It felt like the heat of my anger should physically burn her, but she only seemed more amused.

"And I'm not pretending you don't exist," she continued.

"So you _are_ trying to irritate me to death? Since Tyler's van didn't do the job?"

She stared for a second, anger flashing in her eyes. When she answered, her voice was cold. "Bella, you are utterly absurd."

My palms tingled - I wanted so badly to hit something. If I didn’t walk away from her immediately I might be tempted to get back in my truck and run over her Volvo. I was surprised; property destruction wasn’t usually my M.O. when I was upset, but it seemed Edythe was making me reach new levels. I turned my back and started to walk away.

"Wait," she called. I kept walking, sloshing angrily through the rain but she easily caught up to me.

"I'm sorry, that was rude," she said as we walked. I ignored her. "It’s true, of course," she continued, "but it was rude to say it, nonetheless."

"Why won't you leave me alone?" I grumbled.

"I wanted to ask you something, but you sidetracked me," she chuckled. It seemed all trace of the anger she had only seconds ago was gone. It was maddening.

I sighed. "Fine. What were you going to ask me?"

"I was wondering if, a week from Saturday - you know, the day of the spring dance -"

"Are you trying to be funny?" I interrupted, wheeling towards her.

Her amused expression was back.

"Will you please allow me to finish?"

Walk away, I told myself.

I didn’t move. I stared at her, biting my lip so I wasn’t tempted to hurl any insults her way in response to whatever else she was going to say to make fun of me.

"I heard you say you were going to Seattle that day, and I was wondering if you wanted a ride."

Well, that was unexpected.

"What?" I wasn't sure what she was getting at.

"Do you want a ride to Seattle?"

"With who?" I asked, mystified.

"Myself, obviously." She over-enunciated every syllable as if I simply hadn’t heard her the first time.

I was still stunned. There had to be some piece of this I was totally missing.

"Why?"

"Well, I was planning to go to Seattle in the next few weeks, and, to be honest, I'm not sure if your truck can make it."

"My truck works just fine, thank you very much for your concern." I started to walk again, but I was too surprised to maintain the same level of anger.

"But can your truck make it there on one tank of gas?" She matched my pace again.

"I don't see how that’s any of your business." Stupid, shiny Volvo owner.

"The wasting of finite resources is everyone's business."

"Honestly, Edythe." I felt a thrill go through me as I said her name, and I hated it. "I can't keep up with you. I thought you said you didn't want to be my friend." I thought you wanted nothing to do with me.

"I said it would be better if we weren't friends, not that I didn't want to be."

"Oh, great, now that's all cleared up." My sarcasm was overly exaggerated but she deserved it at this point. I realized I had stopped walking again. We were under the shelter of the cafeteria roof now, so I could more easily look at her face though it certainly didn't help my clarity of thought.

"It would be more... prudent for you not to be my friend," she explained. "But I'm tired of trying to stay away from you, Bella."

There was no humor in her face now. Her eyes were gloriously intense as she uttered that last sentence. I couldn't remember how to breathe.

"Will you go with me to Seattle?" she asked, still intense.

I didn’t understand her total one-eighty. I was utterly confused and completely elated, though I knew I shouldn’t be. I couldn't speak, so I just nodded.

She smiled briefly, and then her face became serious for no apparent reason.

“You really should stay away from me,” she warned. “I’ll see you in class.”

She spun on her heel and then walked quickly back the way we’d come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to pop in and say thank you all so much to everyone reading! This is a passion project I wasn't sure I was gonna put on here so it's astounding to me that other people are enjoying it! Thank you!!


	6. BLOOD TYPE

I made my way to English in a daze. I didn't even realize when I first walked in that class had already started.

"Thank you for joining us, Miss Swan," Mr. Mason said in a condescending tone.

I flushed and hurried to my seat. Not that it mattered if I was physically in class, I couldn’t have focused on the lesson even if I wanted to. From the writing on the whiteboard, it was something to do with symbolism in Wuthering Heights but I didn’t hear another word Mr. Mason said all class. All I could think about was Edythe. It was difficult to believe that I hadn't just imagined what she had said, and the way her eyes had looked. Maybe it all was a very vivid dream I’d believed too hard. She’d probably ignore me at lunch and be her usual cold self in Biology. That seemed more probable than her wanting to spend time with me after all. To spend time _alone_ with me. Even if I did believe I might be able to have a friendship with Edythe, I couldn’t get my hopes up for what I knew I really wanted. But a not insignificant part of me was rejoicing at the possibility.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. I got the weather report for the weekend from Mike as we walked between classes. The rain was supposed to take a minor break, so maybe his beach trip would be possible. I tried to sound eager, if only to make up for disappointing him yesterday. It was hard; rain or no rain, it would still only be in the high forties, if we were lucky.

I grew even more impatient and frightened as lunch neared. I wanted to see her face again, to figure out which reality I was living in. I could only hope by some miracle I'd really heard what I thought I'd heard this morning. Jessica was by my side as we entered the cafeteria. She was excitedly explaining her dance plans to me - Lauren and Angela had asked the other boys and they were all going together – she seemed completely unaware of my inattention.

Disappointment flooded through me as my eyes focused immediately on her table. The other four were there, but she was absent. Had she gone home? I followed the still-babbling Jessica through the line, crushed. I'd lost my appetite - I bought nothing but a bottle of lemonade. I just wanted to go sit down and try not to cry.

"Edythe Cullen is staring at you again," Jessica said, finally breaking through my distraction with her name. "I wonder why she's sitting alone today."

My head snapped up. I followed her gaze to see Edythe, smiling, staring at me from an empty table across the cafeteria from where she usually sat. Once she'd caught my eye, she raised one hand and waved, then motioned for me to join her. As I stared in disbelief, she winked.

"Does she mean you?" Jessica asked with insulting astonishment in her voice.

"Maybe she needs help with her Biology homework," I mumbled, equally confused. "Um, I'd better go see what she wants."

I could feel Jessica staring after me as I walked away.

When I reached Edythe’s table, I stood behind the chair across from her, unsure.

"Why don't you sit with me today?" she asked.

I sat down cautiously. She was still smiling. It was hard to believe that someone so beautiful could be real. I was afraid that she might disappear in a sudden puff of smoke, and I would wake up.

She seemed to be waiting for me to say something. I was sure whatever I said was going to make me sound like an idiot.

"This is different," I finally managed. Not the worst I could have done.

"Well..." She paused, and then the rest of the words followed in a rush. "I decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly."

What in the world was that supposed to mean? What did she know about going to hell? I was fairly certain she had figured out how I felt about her, or at the very least suspected it. Was this her way of sharing her feelings? Is that what Seattle was? No, just wishful thinking on my part. But I couldn’t be sure.

“Well, I suppose I’ll see you there,” I remarked with a half-smile. Hopefully, she would take the hint. She didn’t seem to, she just stared with a slight crease forming between her eyebrows. “Though I’m not entirely sure what you mean by that,” I prompted when she didn’t continue.

“I know, I’m sort of counting on it.” She smiled again, and then changed the subject. "I think your friends are angry with me for stealing you."

"They'll survive." I could feel their stares boring into my back.

"I may not give you back, though," she said with a wicked glint in her eyes.

My heart leaped up to my throat.

She laughed. "You look worried."

"No," I said, but, ridiculously, my voice broke. "More surprised, actually... what brought all this on?"

"I told you - I got tired of trying to stay away from you. So I'm giving up." The smile was fading, and her golden eyes were serious by the end.

"Giving up?" I repeated.

"Yes - giving up trying to be good. I'm just going to do what I want now, and let the chips fall where they may." The smile disappeared completely, and a hard edge crept into her silky voice.

That sounded promising, but again, nothing she said was clear.

"You lost me again."

The breathtaking crooked smile reappeared.

"I always say too much when I'm talking to you - that's one of the problems."

"Don't worry, I don't understand any of it," I said wryly.

"As I said - I'm counting on that."

"So, in plain English, are we friends now?"

"Friends..." she mused, like it wasn’t her favorite word.

"Or not," I muttered.

He grinned. "Well, we can try, I suppose. But I'm warning you now that I'm not a good friend for you." Her smile was brittle now, the warning real.

"You say that a lot," I noted, trying to ignore the sudden pit in my stomach and keep my voice even.

"Yes, because don’t seem to believe it. Or you just don’t listen. If you're smart, you'll avoid me."

"Glad to hear you think so highly of me." I pressed my lips together, remembering the fury all of her insulting dismissals had fueled in me.

She smiled apologetically.

"So, as long as I'm being what you consider stupid, we'll try to be friends?" I struggled to sum up the confusing exchange.

"That sounds about right."

I looked down at my hands wrapped around the lemonade bottle, not sure what to do now. It was so strange to sit with her here—like normal people.

"What are you thinking?" she asked curiously.

I looked up into her deep gold eyes and almost completely lost my train of thought. As I tried to get my head back on straight, I blurted out the truth.

"I'm wondering what you are."

Her smile tightened, like her teeth were suddenly clamped together, but she held it carefully in place.

"Are you having any luck with that?" she asked in an offhand tone.

"Not too much," I admitted.

She seemed to relax again. "What are your theories?"

I blushed. During the last month, I’d given it some thought, but the only solutions I could come up with were completely ridiculous. Like Clark Kent and Peter Parker–level nonsense. There was no way I was going to own up to that.

"Won't you tell me?" she asked, tilting her head to one side with a shockingly tempting smile.

I shook my head. "Too embarrassing."

"That's really frustrating, you know," she complained.

"Is it?" I raised my eyebrows. “I wouldn’t know anything about that. It’s not like I have to deal with someone making cryptic little remarks specifically designed to keep me up at night wondering what they could possibly mean. What could _I_ know about frustrating?"

She grimaced.

"Or, even better," I continued, the pent-up annoyance flowing freely now, "let’s say this person also did a wide range of bizarre things - from saving my life under impossible circumstances one day and then pretending I never existed the next, and she never explained any of that, either, even after she promised. Must be barely an annoyance compared to what you’re dealing with."

"You've got a bit of a temper, don't you?"

"I don't like double standards."

“Would an apology help?”

“An explanation would be better.”

We stared at each other, unsmiling.

She glanced over my shoulder, and then, unexpectedly, she snickered.

"What?"

"Your boyfriend seems to think I'm being unpleasant to you - he's debating whether or not to come break up our fight." She laughed again. I had to join her, with a comment like that.

“For a supposedly ‘good’ reader, you are really unobservant sometimes.”

"Well, most people are easy to read."

"Except me, of course."

"Yes. Except for you." Her mood shifted suddenly; her eyes laser-focused on mine. "I wonder why that is."

I had to look away from the intensity of her stare. I concentrated on unscrewing the lid of my lemonade. I took a swig, staring at the table without seeing it.

"Aren't you hungry?" she asked, distracted.

"No." I didn't feel like mentioning that my stomach was already full - of butterflies. "You?" I looked at the empty table in front of her.

"No, I'm not hungry." She smiled like I was missing some inside joke.

"Can you do me a favor?" I asked after a second of hesitation.

She was suddenly wary. "That depends on what you want."

"It's not much," I assured her.

She waited, guarded but curious.

"I just wondered... if you could warn me before the next time you decide to ignore me for my ‘own good’. Just so I'm prepared." I looked at the lemonade bottle as I spoke, tracing the circle of the opening with my pinkie finger, though I debated throwing up air quotes for full sarcastic effect. Better to not risk her getting mad again, I decided.

"That sounds fair." She looked like she was holding back a grin when I glanced back up.

"Thanks."

"Then can I have one answer in return?" she asked.

"Sure?”

"Tell me one theory."

Shit. "Nope! Try again."

"You didn't qualify, you just promised one answer," she argued.

"You’ve broken promises yourself," I reminded her.

"Just one theory - I won't laugh."

"Yes, you will." I was positive about that.

She looked down, then glanced up at me through her thick lashes, her gold eyes scorching underneath.

"Please?" she breathed, leaning toward me. Without permission, my body leaned closer to her, like she was a magnet. I blinked, my mind going blank.

"I’m sorry, uh, what?" I asked, dazed.

"Please tell me just one little theory." Her eyes still smoldered at me.

"Um, well, bitten by a radioactive spider?" How the hell did she do that? Was I just a hopeless pushover?

She rolled her eyes at me. "That's not very creative."

"Didn’t say it would be," I muttered, miffed.

"You're not even close," she teased.

"No spiders?"

"Nope."

"And no radioactivity?"

"None."

"Dang," I sighed.

"Kryptonite doesn't bother me, either," she chuckled.

"You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

She struggled to compose her face.

"I'll figure it out eventually," I warned her.

Her humor vanished like a switch flipped off. “I wish you wouldn’t try.”

“How can I not wonder? I mean… you’re impossible.” I didn’t say it like a criticism, just a statement. You are not possible. You are more than what is possible.

"But what if I'm not a superhero? What if I'm the villain?" She smiled playfully, but her eyes were heavy with some burden I couldn’t imagine.

"Oh," I said, as several things she'd hinted fell suddenly into place. "I see."

"Do you?" Her face was abruptly severe, as if she were afraid that she'd accidentally said too much.

"You're dangerous?" I guessed, my pulse quickening as I intuitively realized the truth of my own words. She was dangerous. I remembered the first time she’d glared at me with hate in her eyes, and I’d felt genuinely afraid, though I hadn’t understood that reaction in that moment, and I’d thought it foolish just seconds later. The danger was real, though my logical mind couldn’t make sense of it. She'd been trying to tell me that all along.

"But not bad," I whispered, shaking my head. "No, I don't believe that you're bad."

"You're wrong." Her voice was almost inaudible. She looked down, stealing my bottle lid and then spinning it on its side between her fingers. I stared at her, wondering why I didn't feel afraid. She clearly meant what she was saying, and while I understood there was some danger in retrospect, I didn’t sense any of that from her now. I was on edge, but out of confusion and fascination as opposed to fear. She had helped make sense of some of her puzzling statements, but I still had so many questions unanswered. What did she want from me?

The silence lasted until I noticed that the cafeteria was almost empty.

I jumped to my feet. "We're going to be late."

"I'm not going to class today," she said, twirling the lid so fast it was just a blur.

"Why not?"

"It's healthy to ditch class now and then." She smiled up at me, but her eyes were still troubled.

"Well, I'm going," I told her. I was far too big a coward to risk getting caught.

She turned her attention back to her makeshift top. "I'll see you later, then."

I hesitated, torn, but then the first bell sent me hurrying out the door - with a last glance confirming that she hadn't moved a centimeter.

As I half-ran to class, my head was spinning faster than the bottle cap, questions still reeling in my mind.

I was lucky; Mr. Banner wasn't in the room yet when I arrived. I settled quickly into my seat, aware that both Mike and Angela were staring at me, but I couldn’t make out the emotion behind their expressions.

Mr. Banner came into the room then, calling the class to order. He was juggling a few small cardboard boxes in his arms. He put them down on Mike's table, telling him to start passing them around the class.

"Okay, guys, I want you all to take one piece from each box," he said as he produced a pair of rubber gloves from the pocket of his lab jacket and pulled them on with an ominous snapping sound. "The first should be an indicator card," he went on, grabbing a white card with four squares marked on it and displaying it. "The second is a four-pronged applicator -" he held up something that looked like a nearly toothless hair pick "- and the third is a sterile micro-lancet." He held up a small piece of blue plastic and split it open. The barb was invisible from this distance, but my stomach flipped.

"I'll be coming around with a dropper of water to prepare your cards, so please don't start until I get to you." He began at Mike's table again, carefully putting one drop of water in each of the four squares. "Then I want you to carefully prick your finger with the lancet..." He grabbed Mike's hand and jabbed the spike into the tip of Mike's middle finger. Oh no. Clammy moisture broke out across my forehead.

"Put a small drop of blood on each of the prongs." He demonstrated, squeezing Mike's finger till the blood flowed. I swallowed feebly, my stomach heaving.

"And then apply it to the card," he finished, holding up the dripping red card for us to see. I closed my eyes, trying to hear through the ringing in my ears.

"The Red Cross is having a blood drive in Port Angeles next weekend, so I thought you should all know your blood type." He sounded proud of himself. "Those of you who aren't eighteen yet will need a parent's permission - I have slips at my desk."

He continued through the room with his water drops. I put my forehead against the edge of the cool black tabletop and tried to hold on to my consciousness. All around me I could hear squeals, complaints, and giggles as my classmates skewered their fingers. I breathed slowly in and out through my mouth.

"Bella, are you all right?" Mr. Banner asked. His voice was close to my head, and it sounded alarmed.

"I already know my blood type, Mr. Banner," I said in a weak voice. I was afraid to raise my head.

"Are you feeling faint?"

"Yes, sir," I muttered, internally kicking myself for not ditching when I had the chance.

"Can someone take Bella to the nurse, please?" he called.

I didn't have to look up to know that it would be Mike who volunteered.

"Can you walk?" Mr. Banner asked.

"Yes," I whispered. Just let me get out of here. I'll crawl if I have to.

Mike seemed eager as he put his arm around my waist and pulled my arm over his shoulder. I worked to get my eyes open while he tugged me up. I just had to get out of this room before it went full dark. I leaned against him heavily on the way out of the classroom.

Mike towed me slowly across campus. When we were around the edge of the cafeteria, out of sight of building four in case Mr. Banner was watching, I stopped.

"Just let me sit for a minute, please?" I begged.

He helped me sit on the edge of the walk.

"And whatever you do, keep your hand in your pocket," I warned. I was still so dizzy, the world still black and fuzzy around the edges. I slumped over on my side, putting my cheek against the freezing, damp cement of the sidewalk, closing my eyes. That seemed to help a little.

"Wow, you're green, Bella," Mike said nervously.

"Bella?" a different voice called from the distance.

No, not this too. Please let me be imagining that horribly familiar voice.

"What's wrong - is she hurt?" Her voice was closer now, and she sounded upset. I wasn't imagining it. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to die. Or, at the very least, not to throw up.

Mike seemed stressed. "I think she's fainted. I don't know what happened, she didn't even stick her finger."

"Bella." Edythe's voice was right beside me, relieved now. "Can you hear me?"

"No," I groaned. "Go away."

She laughed.

"I was taking her to the nurse," Mike explained in a defensive tone, "but she wouldn't go any farther."

"I'll take her," Edythe said. I could hear the smile still in her voice. "You can go back to class."

"No," Mike protested. "I'm supposed to do it."

Suddenly two strong arms scooped underneath me, and I was on my feet without realizing how I got there. Her cool hands held me firmly, one on my waist and the other on my shoulder, my head falling limply against her. My eyes flew open in shock, but my vision was still a mess. Edythe started moving forward, and my feet fumbled trying to catch up. I expected to fall, but she somehow kept me upright.

"Let me lay down.” Please, please let me not vomit on her.

"Hey!" Mike called, already ten paces behind us.

Edythe ignored him. "You look awful," she told me, still grinning.

"Put me back on the sidewalk," I whined.

She propelled us quickly forward while I tried to make my feet move in the right pattern to match her speed. A few times I could swear that my feet were actually dragging almost above the ground. But then, I couldn’t feel them very well, so I wasn’t sure.

"So you faint at the sight of blood?" she asked. This seemed to entertain her.

I didn't answer. I closed my eyes again and fought the nausea with all my strength, clamping my lips together.

"And not even your own blood," She laughed. It was like the sound of a bell ringing.

I wasn’t sure how she got the door open while dragging me, but suddenly it was warm—everywhere except where her body pressed against me. I wished I felt normal so that I could appreciate that more—being near to her like this.

"Oh my," I heard a female voice gasp.

"She fainted in Biology," Edythe explained.

I opened my eyes. Unsurprisingly, I was in the office, and Edythe was striding past the front counter toward the nurse's door. Ms. Cope, the redheaded front office receptionist, ran ahead of her to hold it open. The grandmotherly nurse looked up from a novel, astonished, as Edythe hauled me into the room and gently helped me onto the cot covered in crackly paper. I could have sworn she lifted my full weight, but I felt too ill to protest. Then she moved to stand against the wall as far across the narrow room as possible. Her eyes were bright, excited.

"She's just a little faint," Edythe reassured the startled nurse. "They're blood typing in Biology."

The nurse nodded sagely. "There's always one."

Edythe muffled a snicker.

"Just lie down for a minute, honey; it'll pass."

"I know," I sighed. The nausea was already fading.

"Does this happen a lot?" she asked.

"Sometimes," I admitted. Edythe coughed to hide another laugh.

"You can go back to class now," the nurse told her.

"I'm supposed to stay with her." She said this with such assured authority that the nurse didn't argue it further.

"I'll go get you some ice for your forehead, dear," she said to me, and then bustled out of the room.

"You were right," I moaned, letting my eyes close.

"I usually am - but about what in particular this time?"

"Ditching is healthy." We sat in silence for a moment, or rather, I laid and she stood, while I tried to even my breathing.

"You scared me for a minute there," she admitted. "I thought Newton was dragging your dead body off to bury it in the woods."

"Ha ha." I still had my eyes closed, but I was feeling more normal every minute.

"Honestly - I've seen corpses with better color. I was concerned that I might have to avenge your murder." She was obviously trying to joke around, but she had the same deadly serious tone as when she was warning me about ... whatever she was. I was never going to be able to understand her.

"Poor Mike. I'll bet he's mad."

"Furious. He absolutely loathes me," Edythe said cheerfully.

"You can't know that," I argued, but then I wondered suddenly if she could.

"I saw his face - I could tell."

"How did you see me? I thought you were ditching." I was almost fine now, though the queasiness would probably pass faster if I'd eaten something for lunch. On the other hand, maybe I was lucky my stomach was empty.

"I was in my car, listening to a CD." Such a normal response - it surprised me.

I heard the door and opened my eyes to see the nurse with a cold compress in her hand.

"Here you go, dear." She laid it across my forehead. "You're looking better," she added.

"Thank you, I think I'm fine," I said, sitting up. Just a little ringing in my ears, no spinning. The mint green walls stayed where they should.

I could see she was about to make me lie back down, but the door opened just then, and Ms. Cope stuck her head in.

"We've got another one," she warned.

I hopped down to free up the cot for the next victim and handed the compress back to the nurse. "Here, I don't need this."

Mike staggered through the door, now supporting a sallow-looking Lee Stephens, another boy in our Biology class. Edythe and I drew back against the wall to give them room.

"Oh no," Edythe muttered. "Go out to the office, Bella."

I looked up at her, bewildered. But as I turned I saw Lee adjust his sleeve, exposing the slow trickle of blood flowing down his hand.

"Trust me - go."

I spun and caught the door before it closed, darting out of the infirmary. I could feel Edythe right behind me.

"You actually listened to me." She was stunned.

"I saw. And I smelled the blood," I said, wrinkling my nose.

"People can't smell blood," she contradicted.

"Well, I can - that's what makes me sick. It smells like rust... and salt."

She was staring at me with an unfathomable expression.

"What?" I asked.

"I am perplexed,” she said with awe.

Mike came through the door then, glancing from me to Edythe. The look he gave Edythe confirmed what she had said about fury, though I couldn’t imagine why. He looked back at me, his eyes glum.

"You look better," he accused.

"Just keep your hand in your pocket," I warned him again.

"It's not bleeding anymore," he muttered. "Are you going back to class?"

"Are you kidding? I'd just have to turn around and come back."

"Yeah, I guess... So are you going this weekend? To the beach?" While he spoke, he flashed another glare toward Edythe, who was standing against the cluttered counter, motionless as a sculpture, staring off into space.

I tried to sound as friendly as possible. "Sure, I said I was in."

"We're meeting at my dad's store, at ten." His eyes flickered to Edythe again, wondering if he was giving out too much information. His body language made it clear that it wasn't an open invitation.

"I'll be there," I promised.

"I'll see you in Gym, then," he said, moving uncertainly toward the door.

"See you," I replied. He looked at me once more, his round face slightly pouting, and then as he walked slowly through the door, his shoulders slumped. I pondered seeing his disappointed face again... in Gym.

"Gym," I groaned.

"I can take care of that." I hadn’t heard Edythe walk over, but she spoke now in my ear. "Go sit down and look pale," she instructed in a whisper.

That wasn't a challenge; I was always pale, and my recent episode had left a light sheen of sweat on my face. I sat in one of the creaky folding chairs and rested my head against the wall with my eyes closed. Fainting spells always exhausted me.

I heard Edythe speaking softly at the counter.

"Ms. Cope?"

"Yes?"

"Bella has Gym next hour, and I don't think she feels well enough. Actually, I was thinking I should drive her home now. Do you think you could excuse her from class?" Her voice was like melting honey.

"Do you need to be excused, too, Edythe?"

"No, I have Mrs. Goff, she won't mind."

"Okay, it's all taken care of. You feel better, Bella," she called to me. I nodded weakly, hamming it up just a bit.

"Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you again?" With her back to the receptionist, Edythe’s expression turned sarcastic.

"I'll walk."

I stood carefully, and I was still fine. She held the door for me, her smile polite but eyes mocking. I walked out into the cold, fine mist that had just begun to fall. It felt nice - the first time I'd enjoyed the never-ending moisture falling out of the sky - as it washed my face clean of the sticky perspiration.

"Thanks," I said as she followed me out. "It's almost worth getting sick to miss Gym."

"Anytime." She was staring straight forward, squinting into the rain.

"So are you going? This Saturday—the beach trip?” I was hoping she would, though it seemed unlikely. I couldn't picture her loading up to carpool with the rest of the kids from school; she didn't belong in the same world. But just hoping that she might give me the first twinge of enthusiasm I'd felt for the outing.

"Where are you all going, exactly?" She was still staring ahead, expressionless, but her question made me hope she was considering it.

"Down to La Push, First Beach." I watched her face, trying to read it. I thought I saw her eyes narrow just slightly.

She glanced down at me from the corner of her eye, smiling wryly. "I really don't think I was invited."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, I just invited you."

"Let's you and I not push poor Mike any further this week. We don't want him to snap." Her eyes danced, like she was enjoying the idea more than she should.

"Mike-schmike. You know I don’t get what issue either of you has with each other," I said under my breath, preoccupied with the way she'd said "you and I." I couldn’t help but smile.

We were near the parking lot now. I veered left, toward my truck. Something caught my jacket, yanking me back.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked, inexplicably upset. She was gripping a fistful of my jacket in one hand.

"I'm going home?" It came out like a question instead of the obvious statement it should have been.

"Didn't you hear me promise to take you safely home? Do you think I'm going to let you drive in your condition?" Her voice was still indignant.

"What condition?”

“Bella, you were lying passed out on the sidewalk not even fifteen minutes ago.”

“I think I’ll survive,” I said. I tried to take another step toward my truck, but her hand didn’t free my jacket. I sighed and turned my face back up towards the rain, trying not to lose my temper.

“Okay, Edythe, why don’t you tell me what you want me to do?”

“You’re going to get into my car, and I am going to drive you home.” I could hear the smile in her voice.

“I have two issues with that. One, it’s unnecessary, and two, what about my truck?”

“One, necessary is a subjective word, and two, I'll have Alice drop it off after school."

I was still upset at the insinuation that I couldn’t take care of myself, but I was distracted by the casual reminder that she had siblings. Strange, pale, beautiful siblings. How much alike were they all?

“Are you going to put up a fuss?” she asked when I didn’t speak.

“Would there be any point to that?”

“I think you know the answer to that. Come on, I’m parked over this way.”

She released my jacket and started across the lot. I turned and follower her, reluctantly. The only good to come of this was getting to spend more time with her, however more embarrassing she wanted to make it.

As the engine purred quietly to life, she fiddled with the controls, turning the heater up and the music down. As she pulled out of the parking lot, I was preparing to give her the silent treatment – at least for a little bit - but then I recognized the music playing, and my curiosity got the better of my intentions.

"Clair de Lune?" I asked, surprised.

"You know Debussy?" she sounded surprised, too.

"Not well," I admitted. "My mother plays a lot of classical music around the house - I only know my favorites."

"It's one of my favorites, too." she stared out through the rain, lost in thought.

I listened to the music, relaxing against the light gray leather seat. It was impossible not to respond to the familiar, soothing melody. The rain blurred everything outside the window into gray and green smudges. I began to realize we were driving very fast; the car moved so steadily, so evenly, though, I didn't feel the speed. Only the town flashing by gave it away.

"What is your mother like?" she asked me suddenly.

I glanced over to see her studying me with curious eyes.

"She looks a lot like me, but she's prettier," I said. She raised her eyebrows. "I have too much Charlie in me. She's more outgoing than I am and braver. She's irresponsible and slightly eccentric, and she's a very unpredictable cook. She's my best friend." I stopped. Talking about her made me realize how much I really did miss her.

"How old are you, Bella?" Her voice sounded frustrated for some reason I couldn't imagine.

The car stopped and I realized we were at Charlie's house already. The rain was so heavy that I could barely see the house at all. It was like the car was submerged under a river.

"I'm seventeen," I responded, a little confused.

"You don't seem seventeen." Her tone was accusatory; it made me laugh.

"What?" she asked, curious again.

"My mom always says I was born thirty-five years old and that I get more middle-aged every year." I laughed again, and then sighed. "Well, someone has to be the adult, I guess." I paused for a second. "You don't seem much like a junior in high school yourself," I noted.

She made a face and changed the subject.

"So why did your mother marry Phil?"

I was surprised that she remembered Phil’s name; I was sure I’d only said it once, almost two months ago. It took me a second to answer.

"My mother... she's very young for her age. I think Phil makes her feel even younger. At any rate, she's crazy about him." I shook my head. At his best, he kept her safe in whatever fantastic whim she was following at that moment, at his worst, he fueled her impulses to new heights. Though, I guess that depended on one’s definition of “best.” I’m sure Mom would take the opposite view.

"Do you approve?" he asked.

"Does it matter?" I countered. I did, but that wasn’t the point. "I want her to be happy... and he’s who she wants."

"That's very generous... I wonder…”

"What?"

"Would she extend the same courtesy to you, do you think? No matter who your choice was?" Her eyes were suddenly intent, searching mine.

My heart skipped a beat. She knew how I felt, there could be no denying that now. But was this a sign that my irrational hope wasn’t as outlandish as I’d originally thought? 

"I-I think so," I stuttered. “She’s very open-minded. If she was born a couple of decades earlier she’d probably be a ‘free love’ bohemian type.” I didn’t want to say anything outright for fear of embarrassment, but hoped this would be obvious enough. "But she's the parent. It's a little bit different."

She grinned. "No one too scary, then," she teased.

“I don’t think anything could scare her, at least not for long.”

“Are you certain about that?” She asked, raising one eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you think _I_ could be scary?” That beautiful crooked grin crossed her face again.

“Maybe?” I reluctantly admitted. “If you really wanted to I’m sure you could be.”

She shook her head and gave me an exasperated sigh, but didn’t say anything else.

"Are you going to tell me about your family? It's got to be a much more interesting story than mine."

She was instantly cautious. "What do you want to know?"

"The Cullens adopted you?"

"Yes."

I hesitated for a moment. "What happened to your parents?"

"They died a very long time ago." Her tone was matter-of-fact.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled.

"I don't really remember them that clearly. Carlisle and Esme have been my parents for a long time now."

"And you love them." It wasn't a question. It was obvious in the way she spoke of them.

"Yes." She smiled. "I couldn't imagine two better people."

"You're very lucky."

"I know."

"And your brother and sister?"

She glanced at the clock on the dashboard.

"My brother and sister, and Jasper and Rosalie for that matter, are going to be quite upset if they have to stand in the rain waiting for me."

"Oh, sorry, I guess you have to go." I didn't want to get out of the car.

"And you probably want your truck back before Chief Swan gets home, so you don't have to tell him about the Biology incident." She grinned at me.

"I'm sure he's already heard. There are no secrets in Forks." I sighed.

Apparently, I’d said something funny, but I couldn’t guess what it was, or why there was an edge to her laughter.

"Have fun at the beach... good weather for sunbathing." She glanced out at the sheeting rain.

"Won't I see you tomorrow?"

"No. Emmett and I are starting the weekend early."

"What are you up to?" A friend could ask that, right? I hoped the disappointment wasn't too apparent in my voice.

"We're going to be hiking in the Goat Rocks Wilderness, just south of Rainier."

I remembered Charlie had said the Cullens went camping frequently.

"Oh, well, have fun." I tried to sound enthusiastic. I don't think I fooled her, though.

"Will you do something for me this weekend?" She turned to look me straight in the face, utilizing the full power of her burning gold eyes.

I nodded helplessly.

"Don't be offended, but you seem to be one of those people who just attract accidents like a magnet. So... try not to fall into the ocean or get run over or anything, all right?" She smiled crookedly.

The helplessness had faded as she spoke. I glared at her.

"I'll see what I can do," I said flatly. Back to being the butt of her jokes. I slammed the door behind me as I stepped out into the downpour.

She was still smiling as she drove away.


	7. SCARY STORIES

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for being here, make sure to check the notes at the end!

As I sat in my room, trying to concentrate on the third act of Macbeth, I was really listening for my truck. I would have thought, even over the pounding rain, I could have heard the engine's roar. But when I went to peek out the curtain - again - it was suddenly there.

I wasn't looking forward to Friday, and it more than lived up to my non-expectations. Of course, there were the fainting comments. Jessica especially seemed to get a kick out of that story. She laughed so hard juice came out of her nose when Lauren pretended to pass out at the lunch table. Luckily Mike had kept his mouth shut, and no one seemed to know about Edythe's involvement. There were a lot of questions about lunch, though.

"So what did Edythe Cullen want yesterday?" Jessica asked in Trig.

"I don't know" It was the truth. “She never really got to the point.”

"You looked kind of mad," she fished.

"Did I?" I shrugged.

"I've never seen her sit with anyone but her family before. That was weird."

"Definitely weird," I agreed. She seemed annoyed; she flipped her dark curls impatiently - I guessed she'd been hoping to hear something that would make a good story for her to pass on.

The worst part about Friday was that, even though I knew she wasn't going to be there, I still hoped. When I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica and Mike, I couldn't keep from looking at her table, where Rosalie, Alice, and Jasper sat talking, heads close together. And I couldn't stop the gloom that engulfed me as I realized I didn't know how long I would have to wait before I saw her again.

At my usual table, everyone was focused on our plans for the next day. Mike was animated, as usual, putting a great deal of trust in the local weatherman who promised sun tomorrow. I'd have to see that before I believed it. But it was warmer today - almost sixty. Maybe the outing wouldn't be completely miserable.

I intercepted a few unfriendly glances from Lauren during lunch, which I didn't totally understand. Just like everyone else, I’d laughed along with her fainting stunt, or at least pretended to. But I got some clarification as we were all walking out of the room together. I was right behind her, just a foot from her slick, silver blond hair, and she was evidently unaware of that.

"I don't know why Bella" - she sneered my name - "doesn't just sit with the Cullens from now on."

I heard her muttering to Mike. I was surprised by the malice in her voice. I really didn't know her well at all, certainly not well enough for her to dislike me - or so I'd thought.

"She's my friend; she sits with us," Mike whispered back loyally, but also a bit territorially. I paused to let Jess and Angela pass me. I didn't want to hear any more.

That night at dinner, Charlie seemed enthusiastic about my trip to La Push in the morning. I think he felt guilty for leaving me home alone on the weekends, but he'd spent too many years building his habits to break them now. Of course, he knew the names of all the kids going, and their parents, and their great-grandparents, too, probably. He seemed to approve. I wondered if he would approve of my plan to ride to Seattle with Edythe. He seemed to like the Cullens a lot. But I still wasn’t inclined to tell him about it.

"Dad, do you know a place called Goat Rocks or something like that? I think it's south of Mount Rainier," I asked casually.

"Yeah - why?"

I shrugged. "Some kids were talking about camping there."

"It's not a very good place for camping." He sounded surprised. "Too many bears. Most people go there during the hunting season."

"Huh. I probably misheard them."

I meant to sleep in, but an unusual brightness woke me. Instead of the same gloomy half-light I’d gotten up to for the past two months, there was a bright, clear yellow streaming through my window. I hurried to the window to check, and sure enough, there was the sun. It was in the wrong place in the sky, too low, and it didn't seem to be as close as it should be, but it was definitely the sun. Clouds ringed the horizon, but a large patch of blue was visible in the middle. I lingered by the window as long as I could, afraid that if I left the blue would disappear again.

Newton’s Olympic Outfitters was just north of town. I'd seen the store, but I'd never stopped there –I’d never had any need to stay outdoors for an extended period of time, so what was the use in looking at supplies? In the parking lot, I recognized Mike's Suburban and Tyler's Sentra. As I pulled up next to their vehicles, I could see the group standing around in front of the Suburban. Eric was there, along with two other boys I had class with; I was fairly sure their names were Ben and Conner. Jess was there, flanked by Angela and Lauren. Three other girls stood with them, including one I remembered falling over in Gym on Friday. That girl gave me a dirty look as I got out of the truck, and whispered something to Lauren. Lauren shook out her hair and eyed me scornfully.

So it was going to be one of those days. Terrific.

At least Mike was happy to see me.

"You came!" he called, delighted. "And I said it would be sunny today, didn't I?"

"I told you I was coming,"

"We're just waiting for Lee and Samantha... unless you invited someone," Mike added.

"Nope," I lied lightly, hoping I wouldn't get caught. But also wishing that a miracle would occur, and Edythe would appear.

"Do you want to ride with me? It's that or Lee's mom's minivan."

"Sure."

He smiled blissfully. It was so easy to make Mike happy.

"You can have shotgun," he promised, and I saw Jessica look over and scowl at us. It wasn't as simple to make Mike and Jessica happy at the same time.

The numbers worked out in my favor, though. Lee brought two extra people, and suddenly every seat was necessary. I managed to wedge Jess in between Mike and me in the front seat of the Suburban. Mike could have been more graceful about it, but at least Jess seemed appeased.

It was only fifteen miles to La Push from Forks, with gorgeous, dense green forests edging the road most of the way and the wide Quileute River snaking beneath it twice. I was glad I had the window seat. We'd rolled the windows down - the Suburban was a bit claustrophobic with nine people in it - and I tried to absorb as much sunlight as possible.

I'd been to the beaches around La Push many times during my Forks summers with Charlie, so the mile-long crescent of First Beach was familiar to me. Familiar, but still breathtaking. The water was dark gray, even in the sunlight, white-capped, and heaving to the gray, rocky shore. Islands rose out of the steel harbor waters with sheer cliff sides, reaching to uneven summits, and crowned with austere, soaring firs. The beach had only a thin border of actual sand at the water's edge, after which it grew into millions of large, smooth stones that looked uniformly gray from a distance, but close up were every shade a stone could be: terra-cotta, sea green, lavender, blue-gray, dull gold. The tide line was strewn with huge driftwood trees, bleached bone-white in the salt waves, some piled together against the edge of the forest and some lying alone, just out of reach of the waves.

There was a brisk wind coming off the waves, cool and briny. Pelicans floated on the swells while seagulls and a lone eagle wheeled above them. The clouds still circled the sky, threatening to invade at any moment, but for now, the sun shone bravely in its halo of blue sky.

We picked our way down to the beach, Mike leading the way to a ring of driftwood logs that had obviously been used for parties like ours before. There was a fire pit already in place, filled with black ashes. Eric and the boy I thought was named Ben gathered broken branches of driftwood from the drier piles against the forest edge, and soon had a teepee-shaped construction built atop the old cinders.

"Have you ever seen a driftwood fire?" Mike asked me. I was sitting on one of the bone-colored benches; the other girls clustered, gossiping excitedly, on either side of me. Mike kneeled by the fire, lighting one of the smaller sticks with a cigarette lighter.

"No," I said as he placed the blazing twig carefully against the teepee.

"You'll like this then - watch the colors." He lit another small branch and laid it alongside the first. The flames started to lick quickly up the dry wood.

"It's blue," I said in surprise.

"The salt does it. Pretty, isn't it?" He lit one more piece, placed it where the fire hadn't yet caught, and then came to sit by me. Thankfully, Jess was on his other side. She turned to him and claimed his attention. I watched the strange blue and green flames crackle toward the sky.

After a half-hour of chatter, some of the boys wanted to hike to the nearby tidal pools. It was a dilemma. On the one hand, I loved the tide pools. They had fascinated me since I was a child; they were one of the only things I ever looked forward to when I had to come to Forks. On the other hand, I'd also fallen into them a lot. Not a big deal when you're seven and with your dad. It reminded me suddenly of Edythe—not that she wasn’t always somewhere in my thoughts—and how she’d told me not to fall into the ocean.

Lauren was the one who made my decision for me. She didn't want to hike, and she was definitely wearing the wrong shoes for it. Most of the other girls decided to stay on the beach as well. I waited until Tyler and Eric had committed to remaining with them before I got up quietly to join the pro-hiking group. Mike gave me another huge smile when he saw that I was coming.

The hike wasn't too long, though I hated to lose the sky in the woods. The green light of the forest was strangely dissonant with the adolescent laughter, too murky and ominous to be in harmony with the light banter around me. It was more than I could catch anyhow, all inside jokes and bonds formed long before I had arrived. I couldn’t keep up, so I kept my focus on being precise with each step, avoiding roots below and branches above, and I soon fell behind. Eventually, I broke through the emerald confines of the forest and found the rocky shore again. It was low tide, and a tidal river flowed past us on its way to the sea. Along its pebbled banks, shallow pools that never completely drained were teeming with life.

I was very cautious not to lean too far over the little ocean ponds. The others were fearless, leaping over the rocks, perching precariously on the edges. I found a very stable-looking rock on the fringe of one of the largest pools and sat there cautiously, spellbound by the natural aquarium below me. The bouquets of brilliant anemones undulated ceaselessly in the invisible current, twisted shells scurried about the edges, obscuring the crabs within them, starfish stuck motionless to the rocks and each other, while one small black eel with white racing stripes wove through the bright green weeds, waiting for the sea to return. I was completely absorbed, except for the small part of my mind that wondered what Edythe was doing now. That took my focus more and more as I tried to imagine what she would be saying if she were here with me.

I suspected she would be happy with my choice to stay put on one rock. Maybe she would even stay and sit with me. I wouldn’t be surprised if she could identify every single type of fish in the pools. She’d be smug about it, no doubt; say I was foolish or absurd or something like that. Usually, I wanted to storm off when she insulted me like that, but given the environment, I’d probably trip and prove her right about my clumsiness. Would she laugh at me or would she rush to help me back up? Would her strange obsession with my safety override her need to be right? It was always both with Edythe, and I couldn’t be sure which took precedent.

I was pulled out of my reverie by Mike and Ben’s complaints of hunger. I got up stiffly to follow them back to the beach for food. I tried to keep up better this time through the woods, so naturally, I fell a few times. I got some shallow scrapes on my palms, and the knees of my jeans were stained green, but it could have been worse.

When we got back to First Beach, the group we'd left behind had multiplied. With a fire that large I wasn’t surprised it had drawn attention; it seemed teenagers from the reservation had come to socialize.

The food was already being passed around, and the boys hurried to claim a share while Eric introduced us as we each entered the driftwood circle. Angela and I were the last to arrive, and, as Eric said our names, I noticed a younger boy sitting on the stones near the fire glance up at me in interest. I sat down next to Angela, and Mike brought us sandwiches and an array of sodas to choose from, while a boy who looked to be the oldest of the visitors rattled off the names of the seven others with him. All I caught was that one of the girls was also named Jessica, and the boy who noticed me was named Jacob.

It was relaxing to sit with Angela; she was a restful kind of person to be around - she didn't feel the need to fill every silence with chatter. She left me free to think undisturbed while we ate. I was thinking about how disjointedly time seemed to flow in Forks, passing in a blur at times, with single images standing out more clearly than others. And then, at other times, every second was significant, etched in my mind. I knew exactly what caused the difference, and it disturbed me.

During lunch the clouds started to advance, slinking across the blue sky, darting in front of the sun momentarily, casting long shadows across the beach, and blackening the waves. As they finished eating, people started to drift away in twos and threes. Some walked down to the edge of the waves, trying to skip rocks across the choppy surface. Others were gathering a second expedition to the tide pools. Mike - with Jessica shadowing him - headed up to the one shop in the village. Some of the local kids went with them; others went along on the hike. By the time they all had scattered, I was sitting alone on my driftwood log, with Lauren and Tyler occupying themselves by the CD player someone had thought to bring, and three teenagers from the reservation perched around the circle, including the boy named Jacob and the oldest boy who had acted as spokesperson.

A few minutes after Angela left with the hikers, Jacob sauntered over to take her place by my side. He looked fourteen, maybe fifteen, and had long, glossy black hair pulled back with a rubber band at the nape of his neck. His skin was beautiful, silky, the color of warm and lovingly crafted clay. His eyes were dark, set deep above the high planes of his cheekbones. He still had just a hint of childish roundness left around his chin. Objectively, a very pretty face. However, my positive opinion of his looks was damaged by the first words out of his mouth.

"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?"

It was like the first day of school all over again.

"Bella," I sighed.

"I'm Jacob Black." He held his hand out in a friendly gesture. "You bought my dad's truck."

"Oh!" I said, now understanding his glances earlier, and shaking his sleek hand. "You're Billy's son. I’m sorry, I probably should remember you."

"No, I'm the youngest of the family - you would remember my older sisters."

"Rachel and Rebecca," I suddenly recalled. Charlie and Billy had thrown us together a lot during my visits, to keep us busy while they fished. We were all too shy to make much progress as friends. Of course, I'd complained enough to end the fishing trips by the time I was eleven.

"Are they here?" I examined the girls at the ocean's edge, wondering if I would recognize them now.

"No." Jacob shook his head. "Rachel got a scholarship to Washington State, and Rebecca married a Samoan surfer - she lives in Hawaii now."

"Married. Wow." I was stunned. The twins were only a little over a year older than I was.

"So how do you like the truck?" he asked.

"I love it. It runs great."

"Yeah, but it's really slow," he laughed. "I was so relieved when Charlie bought it. My dad wouldn't let me work on building another car when we had a perfectly good vehicle right there."

"It's not that slow," I objected.

"Have you tried to go over sixty?"

"Well, no," I admitted.

"Good. Don't." He grinned.

I couldn't help grinning back. "It does great in a collision," I offered in my truck's defense.

"I don't think a tank could take out that old monster," he agreed with another laugh.

"So you build cars?" I asked, impressed.

"When I have free time and parts. You wouldn't happen to know where I could get my hands on a master cylinder for a 1986 Volkswagen Rabbit?" he added jokingly.

"Sorry," I laughed, "I haven't seen any lying around, but I'll keep my eyes open for you." As if I knew what that was. He was very easy to talk with.

He flashed a brilliant smile, looking at me with a knowing gaze, he must have noticed how easily we were falling in line like old friends. And he wasn’t the only one.

"You know Bella, Jacob?" Lauren asked - in what I imagined was an insolent tone - from across the fire.

"We've sort of known each other since I was born," he laughed, smiling at me again.

"How nice." She didn't sound like she thought it was nice at all.

"Bella," she called again, watching my face carefully, "I was just saying to Tyler that it was too bad none of the Cullens could come out today. Didn't anyone think to invite them?" Her sarcasm was barely hidden and her expression of concern was unconvincing.

"You mean Dr. Carlisle Cullen's family?" the tall, older boy asked before I could respond, much to Lauren's irritation. He was really closer to a man than a boy, and his voice was very deep.

"Yes, do you know them?" she asked condescendingly, turning halfway toward him.

"The Cullens don't come here," he said in a tone that closed the subject, ignoring her question.

Tyler, trying to win back her attention, asked Lauren's opinion on a CD he held. She was distracted.

I stared at the deep-voiced boy, taken aback, but he was looking away toward the dark forest behind us. He'd said that the Cullens didn't come here, but his tone had implied something more - that they weren't allowed; they were prohibited. His manner left a strange impression on me, and I tried to ignore it without success.

Jacob interrupted my meditation. "So is Forks driving you insane yet?"

"Oh, I'd say that's an understatement." I grimaced. Possibly, I was literally insane at this point. He grinned understandingly.

I was still turning over the brief comment on the Cullens, and piecing it together with what I’d read from Edythe’s reactions the other day. I stared off towards the water's edge, speculating.

“What?” Jacob asked, pulling me back to reality, and giving me an idea.

"Do you want to walk down the beach with me?"

As we walked north across the multihued stones toward the driftwood seawall, the clouds finally closed ranks across the sky, causing the sea to darken and the temperature to drop. I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my jacket.

I’d hoped I hadn’t totally misjudged our rapport in our short conversation earlier. I found him easy to talk to, hopefully, he felt the same. Clumsily, I tried to make small talk, too nervous to launch into what I really wanted to ask.

"Do you come up to Forks much?" I asked, hoping I didn’t sound like an idiot.

"Not too much," he admitted with a frown. "But when I get my car finished I can go up as much as I want - after I get my license," he amended.

"Who was that other boy Lauren was talking to? He seemed kind of… older.”

"That's Sam - he's nineteen," he informed me.

"What was that he was saying about the doctor's family?" I said it quickly, afraid I would stop myself if I thought about it too long.

"The Cullens? Oh, they're not supposed to come onto the reservation." He looked away as he confirmed what I'd thought I'd heard in Sam's voice.

"Why not?"

He glanced back at me, biting his lip. "Oops. I'm not supposed to say anything about that."

I smiled, hoping to keep my tone light. "Oh, I won't tell anyone, I'm just curious. Is it a secret?" 

He smiled back. Then he lifted one eyebrow and dropped his voice to a whisper.

"Do you like scary stories?" he asked ominously. For one second, I could hear Edythe’s voice clearly in my head. _Do you think I could be_ _scary?_

“How scary are we talking here?”

“You’ll never sleep again,” he promised.

“Well, now I have to hear it.”

Jacob strolled to a nearby driftwood tree that had its roots sticking out like the attenuated legs of a huge, pale spider. He perched lightly on one of the twisted roots while I sat beneath him on the body of the tree. He stared down at the rocks, a smile hovering around the edges of his broad lips. I could see he was going to try to make this good.

"Do you know any of our old stories, about where we came from - the Quileutes, I mean?" he began.

"Not really," I admitted.

"Well, there are lots of different ones, going back to the beginning of time. There’s Bayak; the raven who put the sun in the sky, but he has more cautionary tale type stories. " He smiled, glad to see I was invested. "It’s also said that we were created from wolves - and that the wolves are our brothers still. It's against tribal law to kill them.

"Then there are the stories about the cold ones." His voice dropped a little lower.

"The cold ones?" Could he guess I was making connections already off the word “cold?” I was jumping ahead, both excited and terrified to find out where this was headed.

"Yes. There are stories of the cold ones as old as the wolf legends, and some much more recent. According to legend, my own great-grandfather knew some of them. He was the one who made the treaty that kept them off our land."

"Your great-grandfather?" I encouraged.

"He was a tribal elder, like my father. You see, the cold ones are the natural enemies of the wolf-well, not the wolf, really, but the wolves that turn into men, like our ancestors. You would call them werewolves."

"Werewolves have enemies?"

"Only one."

I stared at him, utterly transfixed and a little impatient.

"So you see," Jacob continued, "the cold ones are traditionally our enemies. But this pack that came to our territory during my great-grandfather's time was different. They didn't hunt the way others of their kind did - they weren't supposed to be dangerous to the tribe. So my great-grandfather made a truce with them. If they would promise to stay off our lands, we wouldn't expose them to the pale-faces." He winked at me.

"If they weren't dangerous, then why...?"

"There's always a risk for humans to be around the cold ones, even if they're civilized like this clan allegedly was. You never know when they might get too hungry to resist." He deliberately worked a thick edge of menace into his tone.

"What do you mean, 'civilized'?"

"They claimed that they didn't hunt humans. They supposedly were somehow able to prey on animals instead."

I tried to keep my voice casual. "So how does it fit in with the Cullens? Are they like the cold ones your great-grandfather met?"

"No." He paused dramatically. "They are the same ones."

I had lost all sense of control over my face at this point, though I was vaguely aware my jaw had dropped open. It must have looked dramatic because Jacob smiled, clearly pleased, and continued.

"There are more of them now, a new female and a new male, but the rest are the same. In my great-grandfather's time, they already knew of the leader, Carlisle. He'd been here and gone before your people had even arrived." He was fighting a smile.

"And what are they?" I finally asked. "What are the cold ones?"

He smiled darkly.

"Blood drinkers," he replied in a chilling voice. "You would call them vampires."

I stared out at the rough surf after he answered, not sure what my face was exposing.

"You have goosebumps," he laughed delightedly.

"You're a good storyteller," I complimented him, still staring into the waves.

"Pretty crazy stuff, though, isn't it? No wonder my dad doesn't want us to talk about it to anyone."

I couldn't control my expression enough to look at him yet. "Don't worry, I won't give you away."

"I guess I just violated the treaty," he laughed.

"I'll take it to the grave," I promised, and then I shivered.

"Seriously, though, don't say anything to Charlie. He was pretty mad at my dad when he heard that some of us weren't going to the hospital since Dr. Cullen started working there."

"I won't, of course not."

"So do you think we're a bunch of superstitious natives or what?" he asked in a playful tone, but with a hint of worry. I still hadn't looked away from the ocean.

I turned and smiled at him as normally as I could.

"No. I think you're very good at telling scary stories, though. I still have goosebumps, see?" I held up my arm.

"Cool." He smiled.

And then the sound of the beach rocks clattering against each other warned us that someone was approaching. Our heads snapped up at the same time to see Mike and Jessica about fifty yards away, walking toward us.

"There you are, Bella," Mike called in relief, waving his arm over his head.

"Is that your boyfriend?" Jacob asked, alerted by the jealous edge in Mike's voice. I was surprised it was so obvious.

"No, ew, definitely not," I whispered.

Jacob laughed under his breath. "So when I get my license..." he began.

"You should come see me in Forks. We could hang out sometime." I felt a twinge of guilt as I said this, knowing that for all intents and purposes I'd used him. But I really did like Jacob. He was someone I could easily be friends with. I already felt more comfortable with him than any of the kids I’d be riding home with.

Mike had reached us now, with Jessica still a few paces back. I could see his eyes appraising Jacob, and looking satisfied at his obvious youth. Focused on searching for all the wrong things. 

"Where have you been?" he asked, though the answer was right in front of him.

"Jacob was just telling me some local stories," I volunteered. "It was really interesting."

I smiled at Jacob warmly, and he grinned back.

"Well," Mike paused, carefully reassessing the situation as he watched our camaraderie. "We're packing up - it looks like it's going to rain soon."

We all looked up at the glowering sky. It certainly did look like rain.

"Okay." I jumped up. "I'm coming."

"It was nice to see you again," Jacob said, and I could tell he was taunting Mike just a bit.

"It really was. Next time Charlie comes down to see Billy, I'll come, too," I promised.

His grin stretched across his face. "That would be cool."

"And thanks," I added earnestly.

I pulled up my hood as we trudged across the rocks toward the parking lot. A few drops were beginning to fall, making black spots on the stones where they landed. When we got to the Suburban the others were already loading everything back in. I crawled into the backseat by Angela and Tyler, announcing that I'd already had my turn in the shotgun position. Angela just stared out the window at the escalating storm, and Lauren twisted around in the middle seat to occupy Tyler's attention, so I could simply lay my head back on the seat and close my eyes and try very hard not to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! There's no better chapter to remind everyone that the Quileutes are a real tribe in Forks, but what Stephenie wrote is very far from their actual history. I tried to include a bit more of their actual stories, but it is truly only a little bit, you should definitely read what they've put up themselves on the website: https://quileutenation.org/ 
> 
> They're also currently fundraising to move the tribal school out of a flood zone, more information about that is at https://mthg.org/
> 
> Thanks again, as this and the next chapter are very similar to the original I'll be uploading that as soon as I hit enter here. So thank you for your patience, and I promise the Port Angeles chapter will have some solid differences.


	8. NIGHTMARE

When I got home I ran to my room straight away. I told Charlie I had a lot of homework to do, and that I didn't want anything to eat. I couldn’t have kept anything down if I tried. There was a basketball game on that he was excited about, though of course, I had no idea what was special about it, so he wasn't aware of anything unusual in my face or tone.

Once in my room, I locked the door. I dug through my desk until I found my old headphones, and I plugged them into my little CD player. I picked up a CD that Phil had given to me for Christmas. It was one of his favorite bands, Linkin Park, but they were far from any genre I normally listened to. A little too close to heavy metal for my taste. I popped it into place and lay down on my bed. I put on the headphones, hit play, and turned up the volume until it hurt my ears. I closed my eyes, but the light still intruded, so I added a pillow over the top half of my face.

I concentrated very carefully on the music, trying to understand the lyrics, to unravel the complicated drum patterns. By the third time I'd listened through the CD, I knew all the words to the choruses, at least. I was surprised to find that I did sort of like the band after all, once I got past the blaring noise. I'd have to thank Phil again.

And it worked. The shattering beats made it impossible for me to think - which was the whole purpose of the exercise. I listened to the CD again and again, until I was singing along with all the songs, until, finally, I fell asleep.

I opened my eyes to a familiar place. Though part of my mind seemed to know that I was dreaming, mostly I was just present in the green light of the forest. I could hear the waves crashing against the rocks somewhere nearby, and I knew that if I found the ocean, I'd be able to see the sun. I was trying to follow the sound, but then Jacob Black was there, tugging on my hand, pulling me back toward the blackest part of the forest.

"Jacob? What's wrong?" I asked. His face was frightened as he yanked with all his strength against my resistance; I didn't want to go into the dark.

"Run, Bella, you have to run!" he whispered, terrified.

"Why?" I asked, still pulling against Jacob's grasp, desperate now to find the sun.

But Jacob let go of my hand and yelped, suddenly shaking, falling to the dim forest floor. He twitched on the ground as I watched in horror.

"Jacob!" I screamed. But he was gone. In his place was a large red-brown wolf with black eyes. The wolf faced away from me, pointing toward the shore, the hair on the back of his shoulders bristling, low growls issuing from between his exposed fangs.

And then Edythe stepped out from the trees, her skin faintly glowing, her eyes black and dangerous. She held up one hand and beckoned me to come to her. The wolf growled at my feet.

I took a step forward, toward Edythe. She smiled then, and her teeth were sharp, pointed.

"Trust me," she purred.

I took another step.

The wolf launched himself across the space between me and the vampire, fangs aiming for the jugular.

"No!" I screamed, wrenching upright out of my bed.

My sudden movement caused the headphones to pull the CD player off the bedside table, and it clattered to the wooden floor.

My light was still on, and I was sitting fully dressed on the bed, with my shoes on. I glanced, disoriented, at the clock on my dresser. It was five-thirty in the morning.

I groaned, fell back, and rolled over onto my face, kicking off my boots. I was too uncomfortable to bother trying to fall back asleep, though. I rolled back over and unbuttoned my jeans, yanking them off awkwardly as I tried to stay horizontal. I could feel the braid in my hair, an uncomfortable ridge along the back of my skull. I turned onto my side and ripped the rubber band out, quickly combing through the plaits with my fingers. Foolishly, I pulled the pillow back over my eyes.

It was all no use, of course. My subconscious had dredged up exactly the images I'd been trying so desperately to avoid. I was going to have to face them now.

First things first, I thought to myself, happy to put it off as long as possible. I grabbed my bathroom bag.

The shower didn't last nearly as long as I hoped it would, though. Even taking the time to blow-dry my hair, I was soon out of things to do in the bathroom. Wrapped in a towel, I crossed back to my room. I couldn't tell if Charlie was still asleep, or if he had already left. I went to look out my window, and the cruiser was gone. Fishing again.

I dressed slowly in my most comfy sweats and then made my bed - something I never did. I couldn't put it off any longer. I went to my desk and switched on my old computer.

I hated using the Internet here. My modem belonged in a museum, and my free service really proved that you got what you paid for; just dialing up took so long that I decided to go get myself a bowl of cereal while I waited.

I ate slowly, chewing each bite with care. I spent longer than necessary at the sink as I washed the bowl and spoon, dried them, and put them away. My feet dragged as I climbed the stairs. I went to my CD player first, picking it up off the floor and placing it precisely in the center of the table. I pulled out the headphones and put them away in the desk drawer. Then I turned the same CD on, turning it down to the point where it was background noise.

With a sigh, I turned to my computer, already feeling like an idiot before I could even finish typing the word.

Vampire.

It took an infuriatingly long time, of course. When the results came up, there was a lot to sift through - most of it was entertainment: movies, TV shows, role-playing games, metal bands, gothic cosmetic companies, and convention schedules.

Eventually, I found a promising site—Vampires A–Z—and waited impatiently for it to load. The final page was simple and academic-looking, black text on a white background. Two quotes greeted me on the home page:

  
Throughout the vast shadowy world of ghosts and demons, there is no figure so terrible, no figure so dreaded and abhorred, yet surrounded with such fearful fascination, as the vampire, who is himself neither ghost nor demon, but yet who partakes the dark natures and possesses the mysterious and terrible qualities of both. - Rev. Montague Summers

If there is in this world a well-attested account, it is that of the vampires. Nothing is lacking: official reports, affidavits of well-known people, of surgeons, of priests, of magistrates; the judicial proof is most complete. And with all that, who is there who believes in vampires? - Rousseau

The rest of the site was an alphabetized listing of all the different myths of vampires held throughout the world. The first I clicked on, the Danag, was a Filipino vampire supposedly responsible for planting taro on the islands long ago. The myth continued that the Danag worked with humans for many years, but the partnership ended one day when a woman cut her finger and a Danag sucked her wound, enjoying the taste so much that it drained her body completely of blood.

I read carefully through the descriptions, looking for anything that sounded familiar, let alone plausible. It seemed that most vampire myths centered around beautiful women as demons and children as victims, likely constructs created to explain away the high mortality rates for young children, and to give men an excuse for infidelity. Many of the stories involved bodiless spirits and warnings against improper burials. There wasn't much that sounded like the movies I'd seen, and only a very few, like the Hebrew Estrie and the Polish Upier, who were even preoccupied with drinking blood.

Only three entries really caught my attention: the Romanian Varacolaci, a powerful undead being who could appear as a beautiful, pale-skinned human, the Slovak Nelapsi, a creature so strong and fast it could massacre an entire village in the single hour after midnight, and one other, the Stregoni Benefici.

About this last, there was only one brief sentence.

Stregoni Benefici: An Italian vampire, said to be on the side of goodness, and a mortal enemy of all evil vampires.

It was a relief, that one small entry, the one myth among hundreds that claimed the existence of good vampires.

Overall, though, there was little that coincided with Jacob's stories or my own observations. I'd made a little catalog in my mind as I'd read and carefully compared it with each myth. Speed, strength, beauty, pale skin, eyes that shift color; and then Jacob's criteria: blood drinkers, enemies of the werewolf, cold-skinned, and immortal. There were very few myths that matched even one factor.

And then another problem, one that I'd remembered from the small number of scary movies that I'd seen and was backed up by today's reading - vampires couldn't come out in the daytime, the sun would burn them to a cinder. They slept in coffins all day and came out only at night.

Aggravated, I snapped off the computer's main power switch, not waiting to shut things down properly. Through my irritation, I felt overwhelming embarrassment. It was all so stupid. I was sitting in my room, researching vampires. What was wrong with me? I decided that most of the blame belonged on the doorstep of the town of Forks - and the entire sodden Olympic Peninsula, for that matter.

I had to get out of the house, but there was nowhere I wanted to go that didn't involve a three-day drive. I pulled on my boots anyway, unclear where I was headed, and went downstairs. I shrugged into my raincoat without checking the weather and stomped out the door.

It was overcast, but not raining yet. I ignored my truck and started east on foot, angling across Charlie's yard toward the ever-encroaching forest. It didn't take long till I was deep enough for the house and the road to be invisible, for the only sound to be the squish of the damp earth under my feet and the sudden cries of the jays.

There was a narrow trail that led through the woods here, or I wouldn't risk wandering on my own like this. My sense of direction was hopeless; I could get lost in much less helpful surroundings. The trail wound deeper and deeper into the forest, mostly east as far as I could tell. It snaked around the Sitka spruces and the hemlocks, the yews, and the maples. I only vaguely knew the names of the trees around me, and all I knew was due to Charlie pointing them out to me from the cruiser window in earlier days. There were many I didn't know, and others I couldn't be sure about because they were so covered in green parasites.

I followed the trail as long as my anger at myself pushed me forward. As that started to fade, I slowed. A few drops of moisture trickled down from the canopy above me, but I couldn't be certain if it was beginning to rain or if it was simply pools leftover from yesterday, held high in the leaves above me, slowly dripping their way back to the earth. A recently fallen tree - I knew it was recent because it wasn't entirely carpeted in moss - rested against the trunk of one of her sisters, creating a sheltered little bench just a few safe feet off the trail. I stepped over the ferns and sat carefully, making sure my jacket was between the damp seat and my clothes wherever they touched, and leaned my hooded head back against the living tree.

This was the wrong place to go. I should have known, but where else was there? The forest was deep green and far too much like the scene in last night's dream to allow for peace of mind. Now that there was no longer the sound of my soggy footsteps, the silence was piercing. The birds were quiet, too, the drops increasing in frequency, so it must be raining above. The ferns stood higher than my head, now that I was seated, and I knew someone could walk by on the path, three feet away, and not see me.

Here in the trees, it was much easier to believe the absurdities that embarrassed me indoors. Nothing had changed in this forest for thousands of years, and all the myths and legends of a hundred different lands seemed much more likely in this green haze than they had in my mundane bedroom.

I forced myself to focus on the two most vital questions I had to answer, but I did so unwillingly.

First, I had to decide if it was possible that what Jacob had said about the Cullens could be true.

Immediately my mind responded with a resounding negative. It was silly and morbid to entertain such ridiculous notions.

But what, then? I asked myself. There was no rational explanation for how I had survived the van. I listed again in my head the things I'd observed myself: the impossible speed and strength, the eye color shifting from black to gold and back again, the inhuman beauty, the pale, frigid skin. And more - small things that registered slowly - how they never seemed to eat, the disturbing grace with which they moved. And the way she sometimes spoke, with unfamiliar cadences and phrases that better fit the style of a turn-of-the-century novel than that of a twenty-first-century classroom. She had skipped class the day we'd done blood typing. She hadn't said no to the beach trip until she heard where we were going. She seemed to know what everyone around her was thinking... except me. She had told me she was the villain, dangerous...

Could the Cullens be vampires?

Well, they were something. Something outside the boundaries of normal and sane was happening in this nothing little town. Whether it be Jacob's cold ones or my own superhero theory, Edythe Cullen was not… human. She was something more.

So then - maybe. That would have to be my answer for now.

And then the most important question of all. What was I going to do if it was true?

If Edythe was a vampire—I could barely make myself think the word—then what should I do? Involving someone else was definitely out. I couldn't even believe myself; anyone I told would have me committed.

Only two options seemed practical. The first was to take her advice: to be smart, to avoid her as much as possible. To cancel our plans, and to go back to ignoring her as far as I was able. To pretend there was an impenetrable glass wall between us in the one class where we were forced together. To tell her to leave me alone - and mean it this time.

I was gripped in a sudden agony of despair as I considered that alternative. My mind rejected the pain, quickly skipping on to the next option.

I could do nothing different. After all, if she was something... sinister, she'd done nothing to hurt me so far. The opposite, in fact. I would be a dent in Tyler's fender if she hadn't acted so quickly. So quickly, I argued with myself, that it might have been sheer reflexes. If it was a reflex to save lives, how bad could she be? My head spun around in answerless circles.

There was one thing I was sure of, if I was sure of anything. The dark Edythe in my dream last night was a reflection only of my fear of the word Jacob had spoken, and not Edythe herself. Even so, when I'd screamed out in terror at the werewolf's lunge, it wasn't fear for the wolf that brought the cry of "no" to my lips. It was fear that she would be harmed - even as she called to me with sharp-edged fangs, I feared for her.

I knew in that I had my answer. I didn't know if there ever was a choice, really. I was already in too deep. Now that I knew - if I knew - I could do nothing about my frightening secret. Because when I thought of her, of her voice, her hypnotic eyes, the magnetic force of her personality, I wanted nothing more than to be with her right now. Even if she didn’t want me in the same way. Even if she was... but I couldn't think the word. Not here, alone in the darkening forest. Not while the rain made it dim as twilight under the canopy and pattered like footsteps across the matted earthen floor. I shivered and rose quickly from my place of concealment, worried that somehow the path would have disappeared with the rain.

But it was there, safe and clear, winding its way out of the dripping green maze. I followed it hastily, my hood pulled close around my face, becoming surprised, as I nearly ran through the trees, at how far I had come. I started to wonder if I was heading out at all or following the path farther into the confines of the forest. Before I could get too panicky, though, I began to glimpse some open spaces through the webbed branches. And then I could hear a car passing on the street, and I was free, Charlie's lawn stretched out in front of me, the house beckoning me, promising warmth and dry socks.

It was just noon when I got back inside. It didn't take too much effort to concentrate on my task for the day, a paper on Macbeth that was due Wednesday. I settled into outlining a rough draft contentedly, more serene than I'd felt since... well, since Thursday afternoon, if I was being honest.

That had always been my way, though. Making decisions was the painful part for me, the part I agonized over. But once the decision was made, I simply followed through - usually with relief that the choice was made. Sometimes the relief was tainted by despair, like my decision to come to Forks. But it was still better than wrestling with the alternatives.

This decision was ridiculously easy to live with. Dangerously easy.

And so the day was quiet, productive - I finished my paper before eight. Charlie came home with a large catch, and I made a mental note to pick up a book of recipes for fish while I was in Seattle next week. The chills that flashed up my spine whenever I thought of that trip were no different than the ones I'd felt before I'd taken my walk with Jacob Black. They should be different, I thought. I should be afraid - I knew I should be, but I couldn't feel the right kind of fear.

I slept dreamlessly that night, exhausted from beginning my day so early, and sleeping so poorly the night before. I woke, for the second time since arriving in Forks, to the bright yellow light of a sunny day. I skipped to the window, stunned to see that there was hardly a cloud in the sky, and those there were just fleecy little white puffs that couldn't possibly be carrying any rain. I opened the window - surprised when it opened silently, without sticking, not having opened it in who knows how many years - and sucked in the relatively dry air. It was nearly warm and hardly windy at all. My blood was electric in my veins.

Charlie was finishing breakfast when I came downstairs, and he picked up on my mood immediately.

"Nice day out," he commented.

"Yes," I agreed with a grin.

He smiled back, his brown eyes crinkling around the edges. When Charlie smiled, it was easier to picture him as the young romantic who impulsively jumped into an early marriage. Who he'd been in those days had faded before I'd known him, as the curly brown hair - the same color, if not the same texture, as mine - had dwindled, slowly revealing more and more of the shiny skin of his forehead. But when he smiled I could see a little of the man who had run away with Renée when she was just two years older than I was now.

I ate breakfast cheerily, watching the dust moats stirring in the sunlight that streamed in the back window. Charlie called out a goodbye, and I heard the cruiser pull away from the house. I hesitated on my way out the door, hand on my rain jacket. It would be tempting fate to leave it home. With a sigh, I folded it over my arm and stepped out into the brightest light I'd seen in months.

After a short battle, I was able to get both windows in the truck almost completely rolled down. I was one of the first ones to school; I hadn't even checked the clock in my hurry to get outside. I parked and headed toward the seldom-used picnic benches on the south side of the cafeteria. The benches were still a little damp, so I sat on my jacket, glad to have a use for it. My homework was done - the product of a slow social life - but there were a few Trig problems I wasn't sure I had right. I took out my book industriously, but halfway through rechecking the first problem I was daydreaming, watching the sunlight play on the red-barked trees. I sketched inattentively along the margins of my homework. After a few minutes, I suddenly realized I'd drawn five pairs of dark eyes staring out of the page at me. I scrubbed them out with the eraser.

"Bella!" I heard someone call, and it sounded like Mike.

I looked around to realize that the school had become populated while I'd been sitting there, absentminded. Everyone was in t-shirts, some even in shorts though the temperature couldn't be over sixty. Mike was coming toward me in khaki shorts and a striped Rugby shirt, waving.

"Hey, Mike," I called, waving back, unable to be halfhearted on a morning like this.

He came to sit by me, the tidy spikes of his hair shining golden in the light, his grin stretching across his face. He was so delighted to see me I couldn't help but feel content.

"I never noticed before - your hair has red in it," he commented, catching a strand that was fluttering in the light breeze between his fingers.

"Only in the sun."

I involuntarily squirmed away from him as he tucked the lock behind my ear. So much for content.

"Great day, isn't it?"

"My kind of day," I agreed.

"What did you do yesterday?" His tone was just a bit too proprietary.

"I mostly worked on my essay." I didn't add that I was finished with it - no need to sound smug.

His face dropped. "Oh yeah - that's due Thursday, right?"

"Um, Wednesday, I think."

"Wednesday?" He frowned. "That's not good... What are you writing yours on?"

"Feminine autonomy and ambition with the witches and Lady Macbeth."

He nodded vaguely.

"I guess I'll have to get to work on that tonight," he said, deflated. "I was going to ask if you wanted to go out."

"Oh." I was taken off guard. Why couldn't I ever have a pleasant conversation with Mike anymore without it getting uncomfortable?

"Well, we could go to dinner or something... and I could work on it later." He smiled at me hopefully.

"Mike..." I hated being put on the spot, but I was going to have to shut this down once and for all. "I don't think that’s the best idea."

His face fell. "Why?" he asked, his eyes guarded.

My thoughts flickered to Edythe. If I was going to be honest with her, and I intended to be, I was going to have to be a lot braver about being honest with people like Mike.

“Uhh... a couple of reasons. One: you are my friend, and I am glad to have you as my friend, but that is all we are ever going to be. I don’t and I _can’t_ see you any other way.” I paused briefly, but flew into my next reasoning as I saw the hurt on his face. “And more importantly – and don’t you ever repeat this to her, I swear to God- but I think that would hurt Jessica's feelings."

That did the trick for interrupting his sadness. "Jessica?" he asked, bewildered.

"Really, Mike, are you blind?"

"Oh," he exhaled - clearly dazed. I took advantage of that to make my escape.

"It's time for class, and I can't be late again, I’m already on Mason’s list." I gathered my books up and stuffed them in my bag.

We walked in silence to building three, and his expression was distracted. I hoped whatever thoughts he was immersed in were leading him in the right direction. I hadn’t been as blunt as I had wanted to be, but even if I couldn’t be brave, I could be happy he was focused on someone else instead of me. It didn’t matter what the reason was as long as there was the same outcome.

When I saw Jessica in Trig, she was bubbling with enthusiasm. She, Angela, and Lauren were going to Port Angeles tonight to go dress shopping for the dance, and she wanted me to come, too, even though I didn't need one. I was indecisive. It would be nice to get out of town with some girlfriends, but Lauren would be there. And who knew what I could be doing tonight... But that was definitely the wrong path to let my mind wander down. Of course, I was happy about the sunlight. But that wasn't completely responsible for the euphoric mood I was in, not even close.

So I gave her a maybe, telling her I'd have to talk with Charlie first.

She talked of nothing but the dance on the way to Spanish, continuing as if without an interruption when class finally ended, five minutes late, and we were on our way to lunch. I was far too lost in my own frenzy of anticipation to notice much of what she said. I was painfully eager to see not just her but all the Cullens - to compare them with the new suspicions that plagued my mind. As I crossed the threshold of the cafeteria, I felt the first true tingle of fear slither down my spine and settle in my stomach. Would they be able to know what I was thinking? And then a different feeling jolted through me - would Edythe be waiting to sit with me again?

As was my routine, I glanced first toward the Cullens' table. A shiver of panic trembled in my stomach as I realized it was empty. With dwindling hope, my eyes scoured the rest of the cafeteria, hoping to find her alone, waiting for me. The place was nearly filled - Spanish had made us late - but there was no sign of Edythe or any of her family. Desolation hit me with crippling strength.

I shambled along behind Jessica, not bothering to pretend to listen anymore.

We were late enough that everyone was already at our table. I avoided the empty chair next to Mike in favor of one by Angela. I vaguely noticed that Mike held the chair out politely for Jessica, and that her face lit up in response.

Angela asked a few quiet questions about the Macbeth paper, which I answered as naturally as I could while spiraling downward in misery. She, too, invited me to go with them tonight, and I agreed now, grasping at anything to distract myself.

I realized I'd been holding on to a last shred of hope when I entered Biology, saw her empty seat, and felt a new wave of disappointment. What if, somehow, Edythe knew what I’d done this weekend? What if digging deeper into her secrets had triggered her disappearance? What if I’d done this to myself?

The rest of the day passed slowly, dismally. In Gym, we had a lecture on the rules of badminton, the next torture they had lined up for me. But at least it meant I got to sit and listen instead of stumbling around on the court. The best part was the coach didn't finish, so I got another day off tomorrow. Never mind that the day after they would arm me with a racket before unleashing me on the rest of the class.

I was glad to leave campus, so I would be free to pout and mope before I went out tonight with Jessica and company. But right after I walked in the door of Charlie's house, Jessica called to cancel our plans. I tried to be happy that Mike had asked her out to dinner - I really was relieved that he finally seemed to be catching on - but my enthusiasm sounded false in my own ears. She rescheduled our shopping trip for tomorrow night.

Which left me with little in the way of distractions. I had fish marinating for dinner, with a salad and bread leftover from the night before, so there was nothing to do there. I spent a focused half-hour on homework, I was quickly through with that, too. I checked my e-mail, reading the backlog of letters from my mother, getting snippier as they progressed to the present. I sighed and typed a quick response.

Mom,

Sorry. I've been out. I went to the beach with some friends. And I had to write a paper.  
My excuses were fairly pathetic, so I gave up on that.

  
It's sunny outside today - I know, I'm shocked, too - so I'm going to go outside and soak up as much vitamin D as I can.

I love you,

Bella.

  
I decided to kill an hour with non-school-related reading. I had a small collection of books that came with me to Forks, the shabbiest volume being a compilation of the works of Jane Austen. I selected that one and headed to the backyard, grabbing a ragged old quilt from the linen cupboard at the top of the stairs on my way down.

Outside in Charlie's small, square yard, I folded the quilt in half and laid it out of the reach of the trees' shadows on the thick lawn that would always be slightly wet, no matter how long the sun shone. I lay on my stomach, crossing my ankles in the air, flipping through the different novels in the book, trying to decide which would occupy my mind the most thoroughly. I flipped through, hoping one of the stories might stand out, but my mind was too occupied, anxious about Edythe’s absence.

I tried to reason with myself. There was no need to freak out. Edythe had said she was going camping. Maybe the others had been planning to join her all along. Maybe they’d all decided to stay an extra day because the weather was so nice. Missing a few days wasn’t going to affect any of her perfect grades. I could relax. I would see her again tomorrow for sure.

Even if she, or one of the others, could know what I was thinking, it was hardly a reason for skipping town. I didn’t believe any of it myself, and it wasn’t like I was going to say anything to someone else. It was stupid. I knew the whole idea was completely ridiculous. Obviously, there was no reason for anyone—vampire or not—to overreact.

It was just as ridiculous to imagine that someone could read my mind. I needed to stop being so paranoid. Edythe would be back tomorrow.

I threw the book away from me on the quilt, annoyed, and rolled over onto my back. I pushed my sleeves up as high as they would go and closed my eyes. I would think of nothing but the warmth on my skin, I told myself severely. The breeze was still light, but it blew tendrils of my hair around my face, and that tickled a bit. I pulled all my hair over my head, letting it fan out on the quilt above me, and focused again on the heat that touched my eyelids, my cheekbones, my nose, my lips, my forearms, my neck, soaked through my light shirt...

The next thing I was conscious of was the sound of Charlie's cruiser turning onto the bricks of the driveway. I sat up in surprise, realizing the light was gone, behind the trees, and I had fallen asleep. I looked around, muddled, with the sudden feeling that I wasn't alone.

"Charlie?" I asked. But I could hear his door slamming in front of the house.

I jumped up, foolishly edgy, gathering the now-damp quilt and my book. I ran inside to get some oil heating on the stove, realizing that dinner would be late. Charlie was hanging up his gun belt and stepping out of his boots when I came in.

"Sorry, Dad, dinner's not ready yet - I fell asleep outside." I stifled a yawn.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "I wanted to catch the score on the game, anyway."

I watched TV with Charlie after dinner, for something to do. There wasn't anything on I wanted to watch, but he knew I didn't like baseball, so he turned it to some mindless sitcom that neither of us enjoyed. He seemed happy, though, to be doing something together. And it felt good, despite my depression, to make him happy.

"Dad," I said during a commercial, "Jessica and Angela are going to look at dresses for the dance tomorrow night in Port Angeles, and they wanted me to help them choose... do you mind if I go with them?"

"Jessica Stanley?" he asked.

"And Angela Weber." I sighed as I gave him the details.

He was confused. "But you're not going to the dance, right?"

"No, Dad, but I'm helping them find dresses - you know, giving them constructive criticism." I doubted I would be any help, but it was my duty to try, as a friend.

"Well, okay." He raised an eyebrow, likely suspecting my lack of actual interest or knowledge in dresses. "It's a school night, though."

"We'll leave right after school, so we can get back early. You'll be okay for dinner, right?"

"Bells, I fed myself for seventeen years before you got here," he reminded me.

"I don't know how you survived," I muttered, then added more clearly, "I'll leave some things for cold-cut sandwiches in the fridge, okay? Right on top."

It was sunny again in the morning. I awakened with renewed hope that I grimly tried to suppress. I dressed for the warmer weather in a deep blue V-neck blouse - something I'd worn in the dead of winter in Phoenix.

I had planned my arrival at school so that I barely had time to make it to class. With a sinking heart, I circled the full lot looking for a space, while also searching for the silver Volvo that was clearly not there. I parked in the last row and hurried to English, arriving breathless, but subdued, before the final bell.

It was the same as yesterday - I just couldn't keep little sprouts of hope from budding in my mind, only to have them squashed painfully as I searched the lunchroom in vain and sat at my empty Biology table.

The Port Angeles trip was back on again for tonight and made all the more attractive by the fact that Lauren had other obligations. I was anxious to get out of town so I could stop glancing over my shoulder, hoping to see her appearing out of the blue the way she always did. I vowed to myself that I would be in a good mood tonight and not ruin Angela's or Jessica's enjoyment in the dress hunting. Maybe I could try and find some clothes for myself as well. I refused to think that I might be alone in Seattle this weekend, no longer interested in the earlier arrangement. Surely she wouldn't cancel without at least telling me.

After school, Jessica followed me home in her old white Mercury so that I could ditch my books and truck. I brushed through my hair quickly when I was inside, feeling a slight lift of excitement as I contemplated getting out of Forks. I left a note for Charlie on the table, explaining again where to find dinner, switched my scruffy wallet from my school bag to a purse I rarely used, and ran out to join Jessica. We went to Angela's house next, and she was waiting for us. My excitement increased exponentially as we actually drove out of the town limits.


	9. PORT ANGELES

Jess drove faster than the Chief, so we made it to Port Angeles by four. It had been a while since I'd had a girls' night out and it was invigorating. Not that I’d had many of those in Phoenix anyway. We listened to whiny rock songs while Jessica jabbered on about the boys we hung out with. Jessica's dinner with Mike had gone very well, and she was hoping that by Saturday night they would have progressed to the first-kiss stage. I smiled to myself, pleased. Angela was passively happy to be going to the dance, but not really interested in Eric. Jess tried to get her to confess who her type was, but I interrupted with a question about dresses after a bit, to spare her. Angela threw a grateful glance my way.

Port Angeles was a beautiful little tourist trap, much more polished and quaint than Forks. But Jessica and Angela knew it well, so they didn't plan to waste time on the picturesque boardwalk by the bay. Jess drove straight to the one big department store in town, which was a few streets in from the bay area's visitor-friendly face.

The dance was billed as semiformal, and we weren't exactly sure what that meant. Both Jessica and Angela seemed surprised and almost disbelieving when I told them I'd never been to a dance in Phoenix.

"Didn't you ever go with a boyfriend or something?" Jess asked dubiously as we walked through the front doors of the store.

I remembered my promise to myself to be more honest with my friends if only as a way to work up to the person I really wanted-no, needed to tell. It was terrifying, of course. But I knew it was the only way forward. Hopefully, there was a way to get a taxi back to Forks if things went poorly.

"I've never had a boyfriend or anything close. I’m not exactly… interested in boys." It was putting it mildly. Maybe we could ease into this conversation.

"What, too good for them or something?” Jessica said sarcastically. “People ask you out here," she reminded me, "and you tell them no."

“Yeah, and there’s a reason for that. I don’t like guys.” I bit my lip before whispering out the last part, too nervous to say it at full voice. “I like girls.”

I had been dreading this, saying the words out loud, but it was surprisingly freeing like a weight had been lifted off my chest. People knew this fact about me in Phoenix, undoubtedly, but I had never had any need to say it out loud.

“Wait, you’re gay?” Angela matched my volume. She seemed to be just curious, no animosity.

“Holy shit, really?” Jessica did not attempt to be quiet, but at least she wasn’t shouting the word lesbian for the whole store to hear.

I shrugged, too anxious to say anything more.

Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying this because you like _us_?” she asked, barely suppressing her tone of disgust.

I sighed. “No, you guys are my friends, that’s why I told you. But just friends.” I wouldn’t be surprised if I had to repeat this sentiment many times with Jessica.

“Do you like somebody?” Angela smiled as she asked, and I was immensely grateful for her kindness but wasn’t sure how much blunt honestly I could handle for one day.

“Uh, I’m not sure that’s entirely relevant,” I tried to keep it casual, but I was turning even more crimson in the face.

“Oh come on, who is it?” Jessica prodded.

"Either way, bad news for Tyler’s plans," Angela mumbled quietly.

“Wait, what?” I must have heard her wrong.

"Tyler told everyone he's taking you to prom," Jessica informed me, almost laughing as she said it.

"He said what?" I sounded like I was choking.

"I told you it wasn't true," Angela murmured to Jessica.

I had no idea what to say, not to the absurdity of Tyler’s idea, nor to my friends’ surprising but very welcome acceptance. I had expected more… horror, more fear. Maybe they were just saving it for behind my back. Luckily, we had found the dress racks, and my focus was pulled towards the hunt for the perfect gowns.

"That's why Lauren doesn't like you," Jessica giggled while we pawed through the clothes.

I ground my teeth. "Do you think that if I ran him over with my truck he would stop feeling guilty about the accident? That he might give up on making amends and call it even?"

"Maybe," Jess snickered.

The dress selection wasn't large, but both of them found a few things to try on. I sat on a low chair just inside the dressing room, by the three-way mirror, trying to control my anxiety. Were they going to be uncomfortable with me there while they got dressed? They didn’t seem to be, at least they didn’t say anything. But a part of me was certain that this dynamic had to change. Maybe they were just in shock. Maybe _I_ was just in shock from actually… coming out.

Jess was torn between two dresses - one a long, strapless, basic black number, the other a knee-length electric blue with spaghetti straps. Both were cute, but I encouraged her to go with the blue- it was cheaper by about twenty dollars. Angela chose a pale pink dress that draped around her tall frame, and luckily for her, it was the first dress she tried on. The most I did to help was return their rejects to the racks. The whole process was much shorter and easier than similar trips I'd taken with Renée at home. I guess there was something to be said for limited choices.

We headed over to shoes and accessories. While they tried things on I merely watched and critiqued, not in the mood to shop for myself, though I did need new shoes. With both Jessica and Angela seeming to ignore my revelation earlier the nervous high was wearing off, leaving room for a new kind of anxiety and worry to move back in.

"Angela?" I began, hesitant, while she was trying on a pair of pink strappy heels - she was overjoyed to have a date tall enough that she could wear high heels at all.

Jessica had drifted to the jewelry counter and we were alone.

"Yes?" She held her leg out, twisting her ankle to get a better view of the shoe.

I chickened out again. "I like those."

"I think I'll get them - though they'll never match anything but the one dress," she mused.

"Oh, go ahead - they're on sale," I encouraged. She smiled, putting the lid back on a box that contained more practical-looking off-white shoes.

I tried again. "Um, Angela..." She looked up curiously.

"Is it normal for the... Cullens" - I kept my eyes on the shoes - "to be out of school a lot?" I failed miserably in my attempt to sound nonchalant.

"Yes, when the weather is good they go backpacking all the time - even the doctor. They're all real outdoorsy," she told me quietly, examining her shoes, too. She didn't ask any questions, but I wondered if she took it as the answer to her previous one. She didn’t press any further, and I was thankful again. I was beginning to really like Angela.

"Oh." I let the subject drop as Jessica returned to show us the rhinestone jewelry she'd found to match her silver shoes.

We planned to go to dinner at a little Italian restaurant on the boardwalk, but the dress shopping hadn't taken as long as we'd expected. Jess and Angela were going to take their clothes back to the car and then walk down to the bay. I told them I would meet them at the restaurant in an hour - I wanted to look for a bookstore. They were both willing to come with me, but I encouraged them to go have fun, might as well give Jess her opportunity to gossip about me, better to let her get it out of her system with Angela first. Besides, they didn't know how preoccupied I could get when surrounded by books; it was something I preferred to do alone. They walked off to the car chattering happily, and I headed in the direction Jess pointed out.

I had no trouble finding the bookstore, but it wasn't what I was looking for. The windows were full of crystals, dream-catchers, and books about spiritual healing. I didn't even go inside. Through the glass, I could see a fifty-year-old woman with long, gray hair worn straight down her back, clad in a dress right out of the sixties, smiling welcomingly from behind the counter. I decided that was one conversation I could skip. There had to be a normal bookstore in town.

I meandered through the streets, which were filling up with end-of-the-workday traffic, and hoped I was headed toward downtown. I wasn't paying as much attention as I should to where I was going; I was wrestling with despair. I was trying so hard not to think about the reality of going back to school tomorrow, that I had really said those things out loud, or about her and what Angela had said... and more than anything trying to beat down my hopes for Saturday, fearing a disappointment more painful than the rest, when I looked up to see someone's silver Volvo parked along the street and it all came crashing down on me. Stupid, unreliable vampire, I thought to myself.

I kept walking, fairly certain I was going south, toward some glass-fronted shops that looked promising. But when I got to them, they were just a repair shop and a vacant space. I still had too much time to go looking for Jess and Angela yet, and I definitely needed to get my mood in hand before I met back up with them. I ran my fingers through my hair a couple of times and took some deep breaths before I continued around the corner.

I started to realize, as I crossed another road, that I was going in the wrong direction. The little foot traffic I had seen was going north, and it looked like the buildings here were mostly warehouses. I decided to turn east at the next corner, and then loop around after a few blocks and try my luck on a different street on my way back to the boardwalk.

A group of four men turned around the corner I was heading for, dressed too casually to be heading home from the office, but they were too grimy to be tourists. As they approached me, I realized they weren't too many years older than I was. They were joking loudly among themselves, laughing raucously and punching each other's arms. I scooted as far to the inside of the sidewalk as I could to give them room, walking swiftly, looking past them to the corner.

"Hey, there!" one of them called as they passed, and he had to be talking to me since no one else was around. I glanced up automatically and regretted the instinct immediately. I tried to avoid eye contact, but my head jerk was obvious enough. Two of them had paused, the other two were slowing. The closest, a heavyset, dark-haired man in his early twenties, seemed to be the one who had spoken. He was wearing a flannel shirt open over a dirty t-shirt, cut-off jeans, and sandals. He took half a step toward me.

I nodded, trying to seem like I knew where I was going as I walked faster toward the corner. I could hear them laughing at full volume behind me.

"Hey, wait!" one of them called after me again, but I kept my head down and rounded the corner with a sigh of relief. I could still hear them chortling behind me.

I found myself on a sidewalk leading past the backs of several somber-colored warehouses, each with large bay doors for unloading trucks, padlocked for the night. The south side of the street had no sidewalk, only a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire protecting some kind of engine parts storage yard. I'd wandered far past the part of Port Angeles that I, as a guest, was intended to see. It was getting dark, I realized, the clouds finally returning, piling up on the western horizon, creating an early sunset. The eastern sky was still clear, but graying, shot through with streaks of pink and orange. I'd left my jacket in the car, and a sudden shiver made me cross my arms tightly across my chest. A single van passed me, and then the road was empty.

The sky suddenly darkened further, and, as I looked over my shoulder to glare at the offending cloud, I realized with a shock that two men were walking quietly twenty feet behind me.

They were from the same group I'd passed at the corner, though neither was the one who'd spoken to me. I turned my head forward at once, quickening my pace. A chill that had nothing to do with the weather made me shiver again. My purse was on a shoulder strap and I had it slung across my body, the way you were supposed to wear it so it wouldn't get snatched. I knew exactly where my pepper spray was - still in my duffle bag under the bed, never unpacked. I didn't have much money with me, just a twenty and some ones, and I thought about "accidentally" dropping my bag and walking away. But a small, frightened voice in the back of my mind warned me that they might be something worse than thieves.

I listened intently to their quiet footsteps, which were much too quiet when compared to the boisterous noise they'd been making earlier, and it didn't sound like they were speeding up, or getting any closer to me. Breathe, I had to remind myself. You don't know they're following you. I continued to walk as quickly as I could without actually running, focusing on the right-hand turn that was only a few yards away from me now. I could hear them, staying as far back as they'd been before. A blue car turned onto the street from the south and drove quickly past me. I thought of jumping out in front of it, but I hesitated, inhibited, unsure that I was really being pursued, and then it was too late.

I reached the corner, but a swift glance revealed that it was only a blind drive to the back of another building. I was half-turned in anticipation; I had to hurriedly correct and dash across the narrow drive, back to the sidewalk. The street ended at the next corner, where there was a stop sign. I concentrated on the faint footsteps behind me, deciding whether or not to run. They sounded farther back, though, and I knew they could outrun me in any case. I was sure to trip and go sprawling if I tried to go any faster. The footfalls were definitely farther back. I risked a glance over my shoulder, and they were maybe forty feet back now, I saw with relief. But they were both staring at me.

It seemed to take forever for me to get to the corner. I kept my pace steady, the men behind me falling ever so slightly farther behind with every step. Maybe they realized they had scared me and were sorry. I was probably just paranoid. Just paranoia, I repeated to myself, trying to believe it. I saw two cars going north pass the intersection I was heading for, and I exhaled in relief. There would be more people around once I got off this deserted street. I skipped around the corner with a grateful sigh.

And skidded to a stop.

The street was lined on both sides by blank, doorless, windowless walls. I could see in the distance, two intersections down, streetlamps, cars, and more pedestrians, but they were all too far away. Because lounging against the western building, midway down the street, were the other two men from the group, both watching with excited smiles as I froze dead on the sidewalk. I realized then that I wasn't being followed.

I was being herded.

I paused for only a second, but it felt like a very long time. I turned then and darted to the other side of the road. I had a sinking feeling that it was a wasted attempt. The footsteps behind me were louder now.

"There you are!" The booming voice of the stocky, dark-haired man shattered the intense quiet and made me jump. In the gathering darkness, it seemed like he was looking past me.

"Yeah," a voice called loudly from behind me, making me jump again as I tried to hurry down the street. "We just took a little detour."

My steps had to slow now. I was closing the distance between myself and the lounging pair too quickly. I had a good loud scream, and I sucked in air, preparing to use it, but my throat was so dry I wasn't sure how much volume I could manage. With a quick movement, I slipped my purse over my head, gripping the strap with one hand, ready to surrender it or use it as a weapon as need demanded.

The thickset man shrugged away from the wall as I warily came to a stop, and walked slowly into the street.

"Stay away from me," I warned in a voice that was supposed to sound strong and fearless. But I was right about the dry throat - no volume.

"Don't be like that, sugar," he called, and the raucous laughter started again behind me.

I braced myself, feet apart, trying to remember through my panic what little self-defense I knew. Heel of the hand thrust upward, hopefully breaking the nose or shoving it into the brain. Finger through the eye socket - try to hook around and pop the eye out. And the standard knee to the groin, of course. Alternating between eyes and groin was supposed to be especially effective. That same pessimistic voice in my mind spoke up then, reminding me that I probably wouldn't have a chance against one of them, and there were four. Shut up! I commanded the voice before terror could incapacitate me. I wasn't going out without taking someone with me. I tried to swallow so I could build up a decent scream.

Headlights suddenly flew around the corner, the car almost hitting the stocky one, forcing him to jump back toward the sidewalk. I dove into the road - this car was going to stop or have to hit me. But the silver car unexpectedly fishtailed around, skidding to a stop with the passenger door open just a few feet from me.

"Get in," a furious voice hissed.

It was amazing how instantaneously the choking fear vanished, amazing how suddenly the feeling of security washed over me as soon as I heard her voice. I dove into the Volvo’s dark interior, not even questioning how she’d come to be here.

It was dark in the car, no light had come on with the opening of the door, and I could barely see her face in the glow from the dashboard. The tires squealed as she spun around to face north, accelerating too quickly, swerving toward the stunned men on the street. I caught a glimpse of them diving for the sidewalk as we straightened out and sped toward the harbor.

"Put on your seat belt," she commanded, and I realized I was clutching the seat with both hands. I quickly obeyed; the snap as the belt connected was loud in the darkness. She took a sharp left, racing forward, blowing through several stop signs without a pause.

But I felt utterly safe and, for the moment, totally unconcerned about where we were going. I stared at her face in profound relief, relief that went beyond my sudden deliverance. I studied her flawless features in the limited light, waiting for my breath to return to normal until it occurred to me that her expression was murderously angry.

"Are you okay?" I asked, surprised at how hoarse my voice sounded.

“No,” she snapped.

I waited in silence, watching her face while her eyes glared straight ahead until the car came to a sudden stop. I glanced around, but it was too dark to see anything besides the vague outline of dark trees crowding the roadside. We weren't in town anymore.

"Bella?" she asked, her voice tight, controlled.

"Yes?" My voice was still rough. I tried to clear my throat quietly.

"Are you all right?" She still didn't look at me, but the fury was plain on her face.

"Yes," I croaked softly.

There was another small silence.

"Can you distract me, please?" It sounded like her voice might break.

"I'm sorry, what?"

She exhaled sharply.

"Just… go on about something, anything, until I calm down," she clarified, closing her eyes and bringing her hands to her temples.

In my nervousness, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind, what had been on mind this entire afternoon.

“I told Jess and Angela that I’m a lesbian.”

I could immediately feel my face turn beet red. Edythe’s eyes opened wide in an expression of shock that I’m sure mirrored my own. This was arguably the worst time to say this outright, but hey, she wanted a distraction.

“Are you, or did you just tell them that?” Her inflection was monotone, her face still frozen looking out the windshield; she was impossible to read.

“What would be the point in lying about that? And now I’ve told you, which is great!” My voice was dripping with sarcasm, but it was better for her to know, for me to have said it outright. There would be no more hiding it, and she could make whatever judgments and decisions she pleased. “At this point, I almost wish it was more obvious to people. Now I’m going to have to run over Tyler Crowley to get him to leave me alone!”

The corners of her mouth twitched up. “What?”

"He's telling everyone that he's taking me to prom - either he's insane or he's still trying to make up for almost killing me last... well, you remember it, and he thinks prom is somehow the correct way to do this. So I figure if I endanger his life, then we're even, and he can't keep trying to make amends. I don't need enemies and maybe Lauren would back off if he left me alone. I might have to total his Sentra, though. If he doesn't have a ride he can't take anyone to prom..." I babbled on. My face didn’t feel quite as warm as before, the embarrassment was slowly turning to dread.

"I heard him talking about that." She sounded a bit more composed.

"You did?" I asked in disbelief, my previous irritation flaring. "You could have warned me!”

Edythe sighed, and finally looked at me, but remained silent.

"Better?" I asked.

"In some ways, yes. Mostly no.”

I waited for her to explain, but she didn't speak again. She leaned her head back against the seat, staring at the ceiling of the car.

"What's wrong?" My voice came out in a whisper. The dread was settling as a pit in my stomach.

"Sometimes I have a problem with my temper, Bella." She was whispering, too. Her eyes darted to me quickly. “Not at you, please understand that. I am… very grateful for you telling me… what you did.” I blushed and she looked away again. "It just- it wouldn't be helpful for me to go back there to those….” She sighed and shook her head. “and maybe teach them a lesson. At least, that's what I'm trying to convince myself."

"Oh." The word seemed inadequate, but I couldn't think of a better response. Her threat should have seemed absurd, no teenage girl could genuinely think she could intimidate four burly adult men. But I didn't doubt her for a second.

We sat in silence for a moment while I stared at her while I tried to think of something reasonable to say. But she just looked at the clock and sighed again.

“Your friends must be worried about you,” she said.

It was past six-thirty. I was sure she was right.

She started the engine without another word, turning around smoothly and speeding back toward town. We were under the streetlights in no time at all, still going too fast, weaving with ease through the cars slowly cruising the boardwalk. She parallel-parked against the curb in a space I would have thought much too small for the Volvo, but she slid in effortlessly in one try. I looked out the window to see the lights of La Bella Italia, and Jess and Angela just leaving, pacing anxiously away from us.

"How did you know where...?" I began, but then I just shook my head. I heard the door open and turned to see her getting out.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm taking you to dinner." She smiled slightly and stepped out of the car, slamming the door. I fumbled with my seat belt, and then hurried to get out of the car as well. She was waiting for me on the sidewalk.

She spoke before I could. "Go stop Jessica and Angela before I have to track them down, too. I don't think I could restrain myself if I ran into your other friends again."

I shivered at the threat in her voice.

"Jess! Angela!" I yelled after them, waving when they turned. They rushed back to me, the pronounced relief on both their faces simultaneously changing to surprise as they saw who I was standing next to. They hesitated a few feet from us.

"Where have you been?" Jessica's voice was suspicious.

"I got lost," I admitted sheepishly. "And then I ran into Edythe." I gestured toward her.

"Would it be all right if I joined you?" she asked flashing a gorgeous, toothy smile. Both of them seemed taken aback. Had they never seen her smile before?

"Er... sure," Jessica breathed.

"Um, actually, Bella, we already ate while we were waiting - sorry," Angela confessed.

"That's fine - I'm not hungry." I shrugged.

"I think you should eat something." Edythe murmured to me. She looked up at Jessica and spoke slightly louder. "Do you mind if I drive Bella home tonight? That way you won't have to wait while she eats."

"Uh, no problem, I guess..." She bit her lip, trying to figure out from my expression whether that was what I wanted. I raised my eyebrows and tried to give the subtlest of nods, wondering if she would make the connection to the unanswered questions from earlier this afternoon. I wanted nothing more than to be alone with Edythe. There were so many questions that I couldn't bombard her with till we were by ourselves.

"Okay." Angela was quicker than Jessica. "See you tomorrow, Bella... Edythe." She grabbed Jessica's hand and pulled her toward the car, which I could see a little ways away, parked across First Street. As they got in, Jess turned and waved, her face eager with curiosity. I waved back, waiting for them to drive away before I turned to face her.

"Honestly, I'm not hungry," I insisted, looking up to scrutinize her face. Her expression was unreadable.

"Humor me."

She walked to the door of the restaurant and held it open, expectantly. Obviously, there would be no further discussion. I walked past her into the restaurant with a resigned sigh.

The restaurant wasn't crowded - it was the off-season in Port Angeles. The host was a meticulously groomed guy a few years older than me, and I understood the look in his eyes as he assessed Edythe. He welcomed her a little more warmly than necessary. I was surprised by how much that bothered me.

"A table for two?" Her voice was alluring, whether she was aiming for that or not. For the first time, he seemed to realize I was there. The look he gave me was quick and dismissive. His eyes shifted back to her immediately, not that I could blame him for that. He led us to a table big enough for four in the center of the most crowded area of the dining floor.

I was about to sit, but Edythe shook her head at me.

“Perhaps something more private?” she said quietly to the host. It looked like she brushed the top of his hand with her fingers, which I already knew was unlike her—she didn’t touch people if she could help it—but then I saw him slide that hand to a pocket inside his suit coat, and I realized that she must have given him a tip. I’d never seen anyone refuse a table like that except in old movies.

“Of course,” the host said, sounding as surprised as I was. He led us around a partition to a small ring of booths, all of them empty. “How is this?”

"Perfect." She flashed her gleaming smile, dazing him momentarily.

Like a deer in headlights, the host froze for a long second, and then he slowly turned and staggered back toward the main floor, our menus still in the crook of his arm.

Edythe slid into one side of the closest booth, sitting close to the edge so that my only option was to sit facing her with the length of the table between us. After a second of hesitation, I sat, too.

Something thudded a couple of times on the other side of the partition, like the sound of someone tripping over his own feet and then recovering. It was a sound I was familiar with.

"You really shouldn't do that to people," I criticized. "It's hardly fair."

"Do what?"

"Dazzle them like that - he's probably hyperventilating in the kitchen right now."

She seemed confused.

"Oh, come on," I insisted. "You have to know the effect you have on people."

She tilted her head to one side, and half-smiled. "I dazzle people?"

"You haven't noticed? Do you think everybody gets their way so easily?"

She ignored my questions. "Do I dazzle you?"

"Frequently," I admitted.

And then our server arrived, his face expectant. The host had definitely dished behind the scenes, and this new guy didn't look disappointed.

“Hello,” he said, surprise making his voice monotone as he mechanically recited his lines. “My name is Allen, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. What can I get you to drink?” I didn't miss that he was speaking only to her.

Edythe gestured with an open hand towards me. The waiter looked my way reluctantly.

"I'll have a Coke." It sounded like a question.

"Two Cokes," she said.

"I'll be right back with that," he told her, and, almost like an experiment, she smiled wide.

He actually wobbled, like he was going to keel over.

She pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. The waiter shook his head and blinked, trying to reorient. I watched sympathetically. I knew just how he felt.

“And a menu?” she added when he didn’t move.

“Yes, of course, I’ll be right back with that.” He was still shaking his head as he walked out of sight.

“You’ve seriously never noticed that before?” I asked her.

“It’s been a while since I cared what anyone thought about me,” she said. “And I don’t usually smile so much.”

“Probably safer that way—for everyone.”

“Everyone but you. How are you feeling?"

"What do you mean?” I asked, totally unsure where she was going with this.

"Do you feel dizzy, sick, cold...?"

"Should I?"

She chuckled at my puzzled tone.

"Well, I'm actually waiting for you to go into shock." Her mouth twisted up into that perfect crooked smile.

"I don't think that will happen," I said after I could breathe again. "I've always been very good at repressing unpleasant things." The almost altercation in the alley was the last thing on my mind at the moment.

"Just the same, I'll feel better when you have some sugar and food in you."

Right on cue, the waiter appeared with our drinks and a basket of breadsticks. He stood with his back to me as he placed them on the table.

"Are you ready to order?" he asked Edythe.

"Bella?" she asked.

I picked the first thing I saw on the menu. "Um... I'll have the mushroom ravioli."

"And you?" He turned back to him with a smile.

"Nothing for me," she said. Of course not.

"Let me know if you change your mind." The coy smile was still in place, but she wasn't looking at him, and he left dissatisfied.

"Drink," Edythe said. It sounded like an order.

I sipped at my soda obediently, and then drank more deeply, surprised by how thirsty I was. I realized I had finished the whole thing when she pushed her glass toward me.

"Thanks," I muttered, still thirsty. The cold from the icy soda was radiating through my chest, and I shivered.

"Are you cold?"

"It's just the Coke," I explained, shivering again.

"Don't you have a jacket?"

"Yes." I looked at the empty bench next to me. "Oh - I left it in Jessica's car," I realized.

Edythe was shrugging out of her jacket. I suddenly realized that I had never once noticed what she was wearing - not just tonight, but ever. I just couldn't seem to look away from her face. I made myself look now, focusing. She was removing a pale gray leather jacket, now; underneath she wore an ivory turtleneck sweater. It fit her snugly, emphasizing her curves.

She handed me the jacket, interrupting my ogling.

"Thanks," I said again, sliding my arms into her jacket. It was cold - the way my jacket felt when I first picked it up in the morning, hanging in the drafty hallway. I shivered again. It smelled amazing. I inhaled, trying to identify the delicious scent. It didn't smell like any perfume I’d come across before. The sleeves were a little too long; I shoved them back so I could free my hands.

"That color blue looks lovely with your skin," she said, watching me. I was surprised; I looked down, flushing, of course.

She pushed the bread basket toward me.

"Really, I'm not going into shock," I protested.

"You should be - a normal person would be. You don't even look shaken." She seemed unsettled. She stared into my eyes, and I saw how light hers were, lighter than I'd ever seen them, golden butterscotch.

"I feel very safe with you," I confessed, mesmerized into telling the truth again.

That displeased her; she shook her head, frowning.

"This is more complicated than I'd planned," she murmured to herself.

I picked up a breadstick and began nibbling on the end, measuring her expression. I wondered if it would be okay to start the conversation I really wanted to have. One of the two, anyway.

"Usually you're in a better mood when your eyes are so light," I commented, trying to distract her from whatever thought had left her frowning and somber.

She stared at me, stunned. "What?"

"You're always crabbier when your eyes are black - I expect it then," I went on. "I have a theory about that."

Her eyes narrowed. "More theories?"

"Mm-hm." I chewed on a small bite of the bread, trying to look indifferent.

"I hope you were more creative this time... or are you still stealing from comic books?" Her faint smile was mocking but she looked tense.

"Well, no, I didn't get it from a comic book, but I didn't come up with it on my own, either," I confessed.

"And?" she prompted.

But then the waiter strode around the partition with my food. I realized we'd been unconsciously leaning toward each other across the table, because we both straightened up as she approached. He set the dish in front of me - it looked pretty good - and turned quickly to Edward.

"Did you change your mind?" he asked. "Isn't there anything I can get you?" I may have been imagining the double meaning in his words.

"No, thank you, but some more soda would be nice." She gestured to the empty cups in front of me.

"Sure." He removed the empty glasses and walked away.

"You were saying?" she asked.

"That’s probably a better conversation for the car. But..." I paused.

"There are conditions?" She raised one eyebrow, her voice had an edge to it.

"I do have a few questions, of course."

"Of course."

The waiter was back with two more Cokes. He sat them down without a word this time and left again.

I took a sip.

"Well, go ahead," she pushed, her voice still hard.

I started with the most undemanding. Or so I thought. "Why are you in Port Angeles?"

She looked down, folding her hands carefully on the empty table in front of her. She glanced up at me from under her lashes, and there was a hint of a smile on her face.

"Next."

"But that's the easiest one," I objected.

"Next," she repeated.

I looked down, frustrated. I unrolled my silverware, picked up my fork, and carefully speared a ravioli. I put it in my mouth slowly, still looking down, chewing while I thought. The mushrooms were good. I swallowed and took another sip of Coke before I looked up.

"Okay, then." I glared at her, and continued slowly. "Let's say, hypothetically, of course, that... someone... could know what people are thinking, read minds, you know - with a few exceptions."

"Just one exception," she corrected, "hypothetically."

"All right, with one exception, then." I was thrilled that she was playing along, but I tried to seem casual.

"How does that work? What are the limitations? How would... that someone... find someone else at exactly the right time? How would she even know I was in trouble?" I wondered if my convoluted questions even made sense.

"Hypothetically?" she asked.

"Sure."

"Well, if... that someone..."

"Let's call her Betty," I suggested.

She smiled wryly. "Betty, then. If Betty had been paying attention, the timing wouldn't have needed to be quite so exact." She shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Only you could get into trouble in a town this small. You would have devastated their crime rate statistics for a decade, you know."

"We were speaking of a hypothetical case," I reminded her.

She laughed at me, her eyes warm.

"Yes, we were," she agreed. "Shall we call you Jane?"

"How did you know?" I asked, unable to curb my intensity. I realized I was leaning toward her again.

She seemed to be wavering, torn by some internal dilemma. Her eyes locked with mine, and I guessed he was making the decision right then whether or not to simply tell me the truth.

"You can trust me, you know," I murmured. I reached forward, without thinking, to touch her folded hands, but she slid them away minutely, and I pulled my hand back.

"I don't know if I have a choice anymore." Her voice was almost a whisper. "I was wrong - you're much more observant than I gave you credit for."

"I thought you were always right."

"I used to be." She shook her head again. "I was wrong about you on one other thing, as well. You're not a magnet for accidents - that's not a broad enough classification. You are a magnet for trouble. If there is anything dangerous within a ten-mile radius, it will invariably find you."

"And you put yourself into that category?" I guessed.

Her face turned cold, expressionless. "Unequivocally."

I stretched my hand across the table - ignoring her when she pulled back slightly again - to touch the back of her hand shyly with my fingertips. What I really wanted was to hold her hand, firmly even, to show I wasn’t and would never be afraid of her. But I didn’t know if doing that would end up scaring her instead. Hopefully, this display of affection would not be too far. Her skin was cold and hard, like a stone.

"Thank you." My voice was fervent with gratitude. "That's twice now."

Her face softened. "Let's not try for three, agreed?"

I scowled, but nodded, trying to hide the sting. She moved her hand out from under mine, placing both of them under the table. But she leaned toward me.

"I followed you to Port Angeles," she admitted, speaking in a rush. "I've never tried to keep a specific person alive before, and it's much more troublesome than I would have believed. But that's probably just because it's you. Ordinary people seem to make it through the day without so many catastrophes." She paused. It should have bothered me that she was following me; instead, I felt a strange surge of pleasure. She stared, maybe wondering why my lips were curving into an involuntary smile.

"Did you ever think that maybe my number was up the first time, with the van, and that you've been interfering with fate?" I speculated, distracting myself.

"That wasn't the first time," she said, and her voice was hard to hear. I stared at her in amazement, but she was looking down. "Your number was up the first time I met you."

As clearly as if I were back in my first Biology class, I could see Edythe’s murderous black glare. I heard again the phrase that had run through my head in that moment: If looks could kill…

“You remember?” she asked, looking up at me now, her perfect face serious.

"Yes." I was calm.

"And yet here you sit." There was a trace of disbelief in his voice; he raised one eyebrow.

"Yes, here I sit... because of you." I paused. "Because somehow you knew how to find me today...?" I prompted.

She pressed her lips together, staring at me through narrowed eyes, deciding again. Her eyes flashed down to my full plate, and then back to me.

"You eat, I'll talk," she bargained.

I scooped up another ravioli and popped it in my mouth as fast as I could.

"It's harder than it should be - keeping track of you. Usually, I can find someone very easily, once I've heard their mind before." She looked at me anxiously, and I realized I had frozen. I made myself swallow, then stabbed another ravioli and tossed it in.

"I was keeping tabs on Jessica, not carefully - like I said, only you could find trouble in Port Angeles - and at first I didn't notice when you took off on your own. Then, when I realized that you weren't with her anymore, I went looking for you at the bookstore I saw in her head. I could tell that you hadn't gone in and that you'd gone south... and I knew you would have to turn around soon. So I was just waiting for you, randomly searching through the thoughts of people on the street - to see if anyone had noticed you so I would know where you were. I had no reason to be worried... but I was strangely anxious..." She was suddenly distracted, staring past me, seeing things I couldn't imagine.

"I started to drive in circles, still... listening. The sun was finally setting, and I was about to get out and follow you on foot. And then -" She stopped suddenly, her teeth clenching together with an audible snap.

"Then what?" I whispered.

She refocused on my face. "I heard what they were thinking. I saw your face in his mind." She suddenly leaned forward, one elbow appearing on the table, her hand covering her eyes. The movement was so swift it startled me.

"It was very... hard - you can't imagine how hard - for me to simply take you away, and leave them... alive." Her voice was muffled by her arm. "I could have let you go with Jessica and Angela, but I was afraid if you left me alone, I would go looking for them," she admitted in a whisper.

I sat quietly, dazed, my thoughts incoherent. I knew she was trying to warn me with all this honesty, but she was wasting the effort. My hands were folded in my lap, and I was leaning weakly against the back of the seat. She still had her face in her hand, and she was as still as if she'd been carved from the stone her skin resembled.

Finally, she looked up, her eyes seeking mine, full of her own questions.

"Are you ready to go home?" she asked.

"I'm ready to leave," I qualified, overly grateful that we had the hour-long ride home together. I wasn't ready to say goodbye.

The waiter appeared as if he'd been called. Or watching.

“How are you do—” he started to ask.

She cut him off. “We’re finished, thank you very much, that ought to cover it, thanks.”

She was already out of her seat.

"No change." She smiled, stepping away from the table, and I scrambled awkwardly to my feet.

I fumbled with my purse. “I can- you didn’t even get anything—”

“My treat.”

“But—”

“Seriously, Bella. I’m insisting.”

She walked away, and I rushed to follow, leaving the stunned waiter behind me with what looked like a hundred-dollar bill on the table in front of him.

She walked close beside me to the door, still careful not to touch me. I remembered what Jessica had said about her relationship with Mike, how they were almost to the first-kiss stage. I sighed, disappointed in the fact that would never happen for me and surprised that I was jealous of Jessica. They would get to be normal, in so many ways that I could never be. Edythe seemed to hear my sigh, and she looked down curiously. I looked at the sidewalk, grateful that she didn't seem to be able to know what I was thinking.

She opened the passenger door, holding it for me as I stepped in, shutting it softly behind me. I watched her walk around the front of the car, amazed, yet again, by how graceful she was. I probably should have been used to that by now - but I wasn't. I had a feeling Edythe wasn't the kind of person anyone got used to.

Once inside the car, she started the engine and turned the heater on high. It had gotten very cold, and I guessed the good weather was at an end. I was warm in her jacket, though, and I breathed in the scent of it when I thought she couldn't see.

She pulled out through the traffic, apparently without a glance, flipping around to head toward the freeway.

“Now,” she said with a grim smile, “it’s your turn.”


	10. THEORY

"Can I ask just one more?" I pleaded as Edythe accelerated much too quickly down the quiet street. She didn't seem to be paying any attention to the road.

She sighed.

"One," she agreed. Her lips pressed together into a cautious line.

"Well... you said you knew I hadn't gone into the bookstore, and that I had gone south. I was just wondering how you knew that."

She looked away, deliberating.

"I thought we were past all the evasiveness," I grumbled.

She almost smiled.

"Fine. I followed your scent." She looked at the road, giving me time to compose my face. I couldn't think of an acceptable response to that, but I filed it carefully away for future study. I tried to refocus. I wasn't ready to let her be finished, now that she was finally explaining things.

"And then you didn't answer one of my first questions..." At this point, I was just stalling.

She looked at me with disapproval, she could no doubt sense my hesitation. "Which one?"

"How does it work - the mind-reading thing? Can you read anybody's mind, anywhere? How do you do it? Can the rest of your family...?" I felt silly, asking for clarification on make-believe.

"That's more than one," she pointed out. I shrugged and gazed at her, waiting.

"No, it's just me. And I can't hear anyone, anywhere. I have to be fairly close. The more familiar someone's... 'voice' is, the farther away I can hear them. But still, no more than a few miles." She paused thoughtfully. "It's a little like being in a huge hall filled with people, everyone talking at once. It's just a hum - a buzzing of voices in the background. Until I focus on one voice, and then what they're thinking is clear.

"Most of the time I tune it all out - it can be very distracting. And then it's easier to seem normal" - she frowned as she said the word - "when I'm not accidentally answering someone's thoughts rather than their words."

"Why do you think you can't hear me?" 

"I don't know," she said. "The only guess I have is that maybe your mind doesn't work the same way the rest of theirs do. Like your thoughts are on the AM frequency and I'm only getting FM." She grinned at me, suddenly amused.

"My mind doesn't work right? I'm a freak?" The words bothered me more than they should - probably because her speculation hit home. I'd already known as much, but it embarrassed me to have it confirmed, nonetheless.

"I hear voices in my mind and you're worried that you're the freak," she laughed. "Don't worry, it's just a theory..." Her face tightened. "Which brings us back to you."

I sighed. How to begin?

"Aren't we past all the evasions now?" she reminded me softly.

I looked away from her face for the first time, trying to find the words. My eyes wandered across the dashboard and I happened to notice the speedometer.

"Holy shit!" I shouted. "Slow down!"

"What's wrong?" She was startled. But the car didn't decelerate.

"You're going a hundred miles an hour!" I was still shouting. I shot a panicky glance out the window, but it was too dark to see. The road was only visible in the long patch of bluish brightness from the headlights. The forest along both sides of the road was like a black wall - as hard as a wall of steel if we veered off the road at this speed.

"Relax, Bella." She rolled her eyes, still not slowing.

"Are you trying to kill us?" I demanded.

"We're not going to crash."

I tried to modulate my voice. "Why are you in such a hurry?"

"I always drive like this." She turned to smile crookedly at me.

"Keep your eyes on the road!" I shrieked, gripping the sides of my seat in terror.

"I've never been in an accident, Bella - I've never even gotten a ticket." She grinned and tapped her forehead. "Built-in radar detector."

“Hands on the wheel! What are you doing, Edythe?” My voice had gone completely shrill. “If you turn us into a Volvo pretzel around a tree trunk, you can probably just walk away."

"Probably," she agreed with a short, hard laugh. "But you can't." she sighed, and I watched with relief as the needle gradually drifted toward eighty. "Happy?"

"Almost."

"I hate driving slow," she muttered.

"This is slow?"

"Enough commentary on my driving," she snapped. "I'm still waiting for your latest theory."

I bit my lip. She looked down at me, her honey eyes unexpectedly gentle.

"I won't laugh," she promised.

"It’s not that, I'm more afraid that you'll be angry with me."

"Is it that bad?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

She waited. I was looking down at my hands, so I couldn't see her expression.

"Go ahead." Her voice was calm. “Don’t worry about me, I can handle it.”

"I don't know how to start," I admitted.

"Why don't you start at the beginning... you said you didn't come up with this on your own?"

"No."

"What got you started - a book? A movie?" he probed.

"No - it was Saturday, at the beach." I risked a glance up at her face. She looked puzzled.

"I ran into an old family friend -Jacob Black," I continued. "His dad and Charlie have been friends since I was a baby."

She still looked confused.

"His dad is one of the Quileute elders." I watched her carefully. Her expression froze in place. "We went for a walk -" I paused, deciding a little more context would probably help, maybe I wouldn’t have to say the word. “Lauren said something about you - she was trying to provoke me. And an older boy from the tribe said your family didn't come to the reservation, only it sounded like he meant something different. So I got Jacob alone and kept bugging him about it until he told me… the stories… he told me one about..." I hesitated. It felt like the words were caught in my throat.

"Go on," she said.

"About vampires." I realized I was whispering. I couldn't look at her face now. But I saw her knuckles tighten convulsively on the wheel.

"What did you do then?" she asked after a minute, her voice still eerily calm.

"I did some research on the Internet."

"And did that convince you?"

"No. Nothing fit. Most of it was kind of silly. And then..." I stopped.

"What?"

"I decided it didn't matter," I whispered.

"It didn't matter?" Her tone made me look up - I had finally broken through her carefully composed mask. Her face was incredulous; with just a hint of the anger I'd feared.

"No," I said softly. "It doesn't matter to me what you are."

A hard, mocking edge entered her voice. "You don't care if I'm a monster? If I'm not human!"

"No."

She was silent, staring straight ahead again. 

"You're angry," I sighed. "I’m sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

She shook her head. “No, I’d rather know what you’re thinking, even if what you’re thinking is insane.”

"So I'm wrong again?" I challenged.

"That's not what I was referring to. 'It doesn't matter'!" she repeated, gritting her teeth together.

"I'm right?" I gasped.

"Does it matter?"

I took a deep breath.

"Not really." I paused. "But I am curious." My voice, at least, was composed.

She was suddenly resigned. "What are you curious about?"

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen," she answered automatically.

"And how long have you been seventeen?"

Her lips twitched as she stared at the road. "A while," she admitted, at last.

"Okay." I smiled, pleased that she was still being honest with me. She stared down at me with watchful eyes, much as she had before when she was worried I would go into shock. I smiled wider in encouragement, and she frowned.

"Don't laugh - but how can you come out during the daytime?"

She laughed anyway. "Myth."

"Burned by the sun?"

"Myth."

"Sleeping in coffins?"

"Myth." She hesitated for a moment, and a peculiar tone entered her voice. "I can't sleep."

It took me a minute to absorb that. "At all?"

"Never," she said, her voice nearly inaudible. She turned to look at me with a wistful expression. The golden eyes held mine, and I lost my train of thought. I stared at her until she looked away.

"You haven't asked me the most important question yet." Her voice was hard now, and when she looked at me again her eyes were cold.

I blinked, still dazed. "Which one is that?"

"You aren't concerned about my diet?" she asked sarcastically.

"Oh," I murmured, "that."

"Yes, that." Her voice was bleak. "Don't you want to know if I drink blood?"

I flinched. "Well, Jacob said something about that."

"What did Jacob say?" she asked flatly.

"He said you didn't... hunt people. He said your family wasn't supposed to be dangerous because you only hunted animals."

"He said we weren't dangerous?" Her voice was deeply skeptical.

"He said you weren't _supposed_ to be dangerous,” I emphasized. “But the Quileutes still didn't want you on their land, just in case."

She looked forward, but I couldn't tell if she was watching the road or not.

"So was he right? About not hunting people?" I tried to keep my voice as even as possible.

"The Quileutes have a long memory," she whispered.

I took it as a confirmation.

"Don't let that make you complacent, though," she warned me. "They're right to keep their distance from us. We are still dangerous."

"I don't understand."

"We try," she explained slowly. "We're usually very good at what we do. Sometimes we make mistakes. Me, for example, allowing myself to be alone with you."

"This is a mistake?" I heard the sadness in my voice, but I didn't know if she could as well.

"A very dangerous one.”

We were both silent then. I watched the headlights twist with the curves of the road. They moved too fast; it didn't look real, it looked like a video game. I was aware of the time slipping away so quickly, like the black road beneath us, and I was hideously afraid that I would never have another chance to be with her like this again - openly, the walls between us gone for once. Her words hinted at an end, and I recoiled from the idea. I couldn't waste one minute I had with her.

"Tell me more," I asked desperately, not caring what she said, just so I could hear her voice again.

She looked at me quickly, startled by the change in my tone. "What more do you want to know?"

"Tell me why you hunt animals instead of people," I suggested, my voice still tinged with desperation. I realized my eyes were wet, and I fought against the grief that was trying to overpower me.

"I don't want to be a monster." Her voice was very low.

"But animals aren't enough?"

She paused. "I can't be sure, of course, but I'd compare it to living on tofu and soy milk; we call ourselves vegetarians, our little inside joke. It doesn't completely satiate the hunger - or rather thirst. But it keeps us strong enough to resist. Most of the time." Her tone turned ominous. "Sometimes it's more difficult than others."

"Is it very difficult for you now?" I asked.

She sighed. "Yes."

"But you're not hungry – or thirsty or whatever- now." Though I stumbled over the words, I knew that I was right.

"Why do you think that?"

"Your eyes. I told you I had a theory. I've noticed that people are crabbier when they're hungry. You know, ‘hanger’ and all of that?"

She laughed. "You are observant, aren't you?"

I didn't answer; I just listened to the sound of her laugh, committing it to memory.

“So everything I thought I saw—that day with the van. That all happened for real. You caught the van.”

She shrugged. “Yes.”

“How strong are you?”

She glanced at me from the side of her eye. “Strong enough.”

“Like, could you lift five thousand pounds?”

She looked a little thrown by my enthusiasm. “If I needed to. But I’m not much into feats of strength. They just make Emmett competitive, and I’ll never be that strong.”

“How strong is that?”

“Honestly, if he wanted to, I bet he could lift a mountain over his head. But I would never say that around him, because then he would have to try.” She laughed again, and it was a relaxed sound. Affectionate.

"Were you hunting this weekend, with Emmett?" I asked when it was quiet again.

"Yes." She paused for a second as if deciding whether or not to say something. "I didn't want to leave, but it was necessary. It's a bit easier to be around you when I'm not thirsty."

"Why didn't you want to leave?"

"It makes me... anxious... to be away from you." Her eyes were gentle but intense. They made it hard to breathe normally. "I wasn't joking when I asked you to try not to fall in the ocean or get run over last Thursday. I was distracted all weekend, worrying about you. And after what happened tonight, I'm surprised that you did make it through a whole weekend unscathed." She shook her head, and then seemed to remember something. "Well, not totally unscathed."

"What?"

"Your hands," she reminded me. I looked down at my palms, at the almost-healed scrapes across the heels of my hands. Her eyes missed nothing.

"I fell," I sighed.

"That's what I thought." Her lips curved up at the corners. "I suppose, being you, it could have been much worse - and that possibility tormented me the entire time I was away. It was a very long three days. I really got on Emmett's nerves."

"Three days? Didn't you just get back today?"

"No, we got back Sunday."

"Then why weren't any of you in school?" I was frustrated, almost angry as I thought of how much her absence had affected me.

"You asked if the sun hurt me, and it doesn't. But I can't go out in the sunlight - at least, not where anyone can see."

"Why?"

"I'll show you sometime," she promised.

I thought about it for a moment.

"You might have called me," I decided.

She was puzzled. "But I knew you were safe."

"But I didn't know where you were. I -" I hesitated, dropping my eyes.

"What?" Her silky voice was as hypnotic as her eyes.

"I didn't like it. Not seeing you. It makes me anxious, too. I was afraid I’d never see you again." I blushed to be saying this out loud. All the pressure I had put on her to be honest with me and I couldn’t even state my feelings outright.

She was quiet. I glanced up, apprehensive, and saw that her expression was pained.

"Ah," she groaned quietly. "This is wrong."

“I’m sorry, I know it’s probably weird, or a lot, and I don’t mean to scare you or- “

She cut me off with a laugh. “Scare me? Have you been listening to the conversation we’ve been having? What are you talking about?”

“That I have feelings for you,” I whispered.

“Oh, Bella,” she sighed. Her words were flowing almost too fast for me to grasp every one. “That’s not what I mean. It’s that it’s not safe. I’ll hurt you, and that’s the last thing I would ever want. I'm dangerous- please, grasp that."

“I don’t care.”

"I'm serious," she growled.

"So am I. I told you, it doesn't matter what you are. It's too late."

Her voice whipped out, low and harsh. "Never say that. It’s not too late.”

I bit my lip and was glad she couldn't know how much that hurt. No matter her reasons, we didn’t want the same thing. I stared out at the road. We must be close now, she was driving much too fast.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, her voice still raw. I just shook my head, not sure if I could speak. I could feel her gaze on my face, but I kept my eyes forward.

"Are you crying?" She sounded appalled. I hadn't realized the moisture in my eyes had brimmed over. I quickly rubbed my hand across my cheek, and sure enough, tears were there, betraying me.

"No," I said, but my voice cracked.

I saw her reach toward me hesitantly with her right hand, but then she stopped and let it rest on the gear shift.

"I'm sorry." Her voice burned with regret.

The darkness slipped by us in silence.

"Can you tell me something?" she asked after another minute, and I could hear her struggle to use a lighter tone.

I nodded, not wanting her to hear my voice break again.

"What were you thinking tonight, just before I came around the corner? I couldn't understand your expression - you didn't look that scared, you looked like you were concentrating very hard on something."

"I was trying to remember how to incapacitate an attacker - you know, self-defense. I was going to smash his nose into his brain." I thought of the dark-haired man with a surge of hate.

"You were going to fight them?" This upset her. "Didn't you think about running?"

"I fall a lot when I run," I admitted.

"What about screaming for help?"

"I was getting to that part."

She shook her head. "You were right - I'm definitely fighting fate trying to keep you alive."

I sighed. We were slowing, passing into the boundaries of Forks. It had taken less than twenty minutes.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" I demanded.

"Yes - I have a paper due, too." she smiled. "I'll save you a seat at lunch."

It was silly, after everything we'd been through tonight, how that little promise sent flutters through my stomach, and made me unable to speak.

We were in front of Charlie's house. The lights were on, my truck in its place, everything utterly normal. It was like waking from a dream —the kind you didn’t want to lose, the kind you kept your eyes closed tight for, rolled over, and covered your head with a pillow for, trying to find a way back in. She stopped the car, but I didn't move.

"Do you promise to be there tomorrow?"

"I promise."

I considered that for a moment, then nodded. I pulled her jacket off, taking one last whiff.

"You can keep it - you don't have a jacket for tomorrow," she reminded me.

I handed it back. "I don't want to have to explain to Charlie."

"You were supposed to be shopping tonight, weren’t you? Now you have some evidence." She grinned.

I hesitated, pressing my lips together in an attempt to not grin like an idiot. I was thrilled to be taking something of her home, something that proved tonight was real. I put my arms back into the jacket slowly, trying to prolong the moment.

"Bella?" she asked in a different tone - serious, but hesitant.

"Yes?" I turned back to her too eagerly.

"Will you promise me something?"

"Yes," I said, and instantly regretted my unconditional agreement. What if she asked me to stay away from her? I couldn't keep that promise.

"Don't go into the woods alone."

I stared at her in blank confusion. "Why?"

She frowned, and her eyes were tight as she stared past me out the window.

"I'm not always the most dangerous thing out there. Let's leave it at that."

I shuddered slightly at the sudden bleakness in her voice, but I was relieved. This, at least, was an easy promise to honor. "Whatever you say."

"I'll see you tomorrow," she sighed, and I knew she wanted me to leave now.

"Tomorrow, then." I opened the door unwillingly.

"Bella?" I turned and she was leaning toward me, her pale, beautiful face just inches from mine. My heart stopped beating.

"Sleep well," she said. Her breath blew in my face, stunning me. It was the same exquisite scent that clung to her jacket but in a more concentrated form. I blinked, thoroughly dazed.

I was unable to move until my brain had somewhat unscrambled itself. Then I stepped out of the car awkwardly, having to use the frame for support. I thought I heard her chuckle, but the sound was too quiet for me to be certain.

She waited till I had stumbled to the front door, and then I heard the engine quietly rev. I turned to watch the silver car disappear around the corner.

I reached for the key mechanically, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

Charlie called from the living room. "Bella?"

"Yeah, Dad, it's me." I walked in to see him. He was watching a baseball game.

"You're home early."

"Am I?" I was surprised.

"It's not even eight yet," he told me. "Did you girls have fun?"

"Yeah - it was lots of fun." My head was spinning as I tried to remember all the way back to the girls' night out I had planned. "They both found dresses. I got this,” I said, shrugging to show Edythe’s jacket, trying to be as casual as possible.

"Looks nice. Are you all right?"

"I'm just tired. I did a lot of walking."

"Well, maybe you should go lie down." He sounded concerned. I wondered what my face looked like.

I shrugged, trying to ease his worry. I went to the kitchen and fell, exhausted, into a chair. I was starting to feel strangely dizzy. I wondered if I was going to go into shock after all. Get a grip, I told myself. I had to figure out the best way to let Jess and Angela know I had made it back safe without tipping off Charlie.

The phone rang suddenly, startling me. I yanked it off the hook.

"Hello?" I asked breathlessly.

"Bella?"

"Hey, Jessica!”

"You made it home?" Her voice was relieved... and surprised.

"Yes, but why are you calling so soon?” My face was thankfully turned away from Charlie, hopefully, she would catch on quickly so I wouldn’t have to prolong the lies.

“What? Oh, is your dad there?" Thank goodness for Jess.

"Mhm hmm.”

“Alright, but you have to tell me everything that happened tomorrow!”

“In Trig?”

"Perfect, I'll talk to you then. Bye!" I could hear the impatience in her voice.

"Okay, bye, Jess."

Charlie still seemed fixated on the game, he didn’t take his eyes off as I said a quick goodnight and headed upstairs. I went through the motions of getting ready for bed without paying any attention to what I was doing. The revelations of this evening were starting to sink in; as much as I hated to admit it, I was emotionally exhausted. It wasn't until I was in the shower - the water too hot, burning my skin - that I realized I was freezing. I shuddered violently for several minutes before the steaming spray could finally relax my rigid muscles. Then I stood in the shower, too tired to move until the hot water began to run out.

I stumbled out, wrapping myself securely in a towel, trying to hold the heat from the water in so the aching shivers wouldn't return. I dressed for bed swiftly and climbed under my quilt, curling into a ball, hugging myself to keep warm. A few small shudders trembled through me.

My mind still swirled dizzily, full of images and words I couldn't understand, and some I fought to repress. Nothing seemed clear at first, but as I fell gradually closer to unconsciousness, a few certainties became evident.

About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edythe was a vampire. Second, there was part of her - and I didn't know how potent that part might be - that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with her.


	11. INTERROGATIONS

It was different in the morning. All the things that had seemed possible last night in the dark seemed like a bizarre dream.

Did that really happen? Did I remember the words right? Had she really said those things to me? Had I been brave enough to say the things I thought I’d said?

Logic wasn't on my side. Nor common sense. I clung to the parts I couldn't have imagined. Her jacket was draped over the top of my backpack, and I kept walking over to touch it. That part was real, at least.

It was foggy and dark outside my window, absolutely perfect. She had no reason not to be in school today. I got dressed slowly, afraid the memories of last night might disappear. I was delighted to find her jacket still smelled like her, and while I was glad for more proof I was afraid that wearing it would diminish the scent. Hopefully, the rain would hold off, or at least that I wouldn't be soaked in the afternoon.

When I got downstairs, Charlie was gone again - I was running later than I'd realized. I swallowed a granola bar in three bites, chased it down with milk straight from the carton, and then hurried out the door.

It was unusually foggy; the air was almost smoky with it. The mist was ice cold where it touched my face, and I couldn’t wait to get the heat going in my truck. It was such a thick fog that I was a few feet down the driveway before I realized there was a car in it: a silver car. My heart thudded, stuttered, and then picked up again in double time.

I didn't see where she came from, but suddenly she was there, pulling the door open for me.

"Do you want to ride with me today?" she asked, amused by my expression as she caught me by surprise yet again. There was uncertainty in her voice. She was really giving me a choice - I was free to refuse, and part of her hoped for that. It was entirely in vain, of course.

"Yes, thank you," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. The door closed behind me, and, sooner than should be possible, she was sitting next to me, starting the car. It was already warm inside the cab and I started to shimmy out of the jacket, but Edythe put out her hand to stop me.

“I meant it when I said you could keep it.” Her voice seemed guarded. “I don’t want you to get sick or something." I noticed that she wore no jacket herself, just a pale lavender sweater with the sleeves pushed up. Again, the fabric hugged her perfect body. It was a colossal tribute to her face that it kept my focus.

"Yeah, because a cold is what’s gonna do me in,” I joked, but I pulled my arms back into the jacket.

“It always could,” she sighed under her breath.

We drove through the fog-shrouded streets, always too fast, feeling awkward. Or, I was. Edythe seemed calm, though it was hard to judge her demeanor in silence. Last night all the walls were down, but I didn't know if we were still allowed to be as candid today. It left me tongue-tied. I would let her take the lead.

She turned to smirk at me. "No twenty questions today?"

"Do my questions bother you?"

"Not as much as your reactions do." It seemed like she was kidding, but I couldn't be sure.

I frowned. "Are they that bad?”

"No, they’re not bad at all, that’s the problem. You act as if we’re talking about the weather as opposed to undead horrors. It’s not natural.”

"I think ‘horror’ might be stretching it just a tad."

“You are completely bizarre,” she sighed. “I just wish I could know what you’re really thinking.”

"I always tell you what I'm thinking."

"Not _always_." 

"Okay, most of the time,” I admitted. No use explaining that the times I had told her the truth only upset her.

"Enough of a difference to drive me insane."

“Well that makes two of us, doesn’t it?”

She shook her head exasperated but didn't respond. Her face was unreadable as we drove into the school parking lot. Something occurred to me belatedly.

"Where's the rest of your family?" I asked - more than glad to be alone with her, but remembering that her car was usually full.

"They took Rosalie's car." She rolled her eyes as we pulled up next to a glossy red convertible with the top up. "Ostentatious, isn't it?"

"Um, wow," I breathed. "If she has that, why does she ride with you?"

"As I said, it's ostentatious. We try to blend in."

"I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you’ve got a bit of work to do in that department." I laughed as we got out of the car. "So why did Rosalie drive today if it's more conspicuous?"

"Haven’t you noticed? I'm breaking all the rules now."

She met me at the front of the car, staying very close to my side as we walked onto campus. I wanted to close that little distance, to reach out and touch her, to grab her hand, but I knew it would only upset her again. Besides, even if we were breaking all the rules, it didn’t make the watchful eyes of our classmates any less anxiety-inducing. For me, at least.

Under the shelter of the cafeteria roof's overhang, Jessica was waiting, her eyes about to bug out of their sockets.

"Hey, Jessica," I said when we were a few feet away. She was clearly planning to ambush me before class, and Edythe’s presence had thrown her off significantly.

"Good morning, Jessica," Edythe said politely. She spoke as if they were old friends, which surprised me, I knew they had never had so much as a full conversation before. Evidently, it shocked Jess as well.

"Er... hi." She shifted her wide eyes to me, both confused and overwhelmed by Edythe’s charm. "I guess I'll see you in Trig." She gave me a meaningful look, and I suppressed a sigh. What on earth was I going to tell her?

"Yeah, I'll see you then."

She walked away, pausing twice to peek back over her shoulder at us.

"What are you going to tell her?" Edythe murmured.

"Hey, I thought you couldn't read my mind!" I whispered.

"I can't,” she said, perplexed. After a quick moment, her eyebrows raised in understanding. “However, I can read hers – she’ll have a slew of questions ready for you in class."

"A little help? What does she want to know?"

She shook her head, her mouth pulling into a half-smile. "I don’t think it’s very fair for me to tell you that."

"Keeping it to yourself is unfair!” I protested.

She deliberated as we walked. We stopped outside the door to my first class.

"She wants to know if we planned ahead to meet for dinner. And she wants to know if I’m the person you wouldn’t say you liked last night," she finally said, her smile pulling wide across her whole face.

"Yikes. What should I say?" I tried to keep my expression very innocent. People were passing us on their way to class, probably staring, but I was barely aware of them.

"Hmmm." She paused to catch a stray lock of hair that was escaping the twist on my neck and wound it back into place. My heart spluttered hyperactively. “That’s a good question. I can’t wait to hear what you come up with.”

“Edythe…”

"See you at lunch," she said as she turned and walked back down the hall. Three people walking in the door stopped to stare at me.

I hurried into class, flushed and irritated. As if I wasn’t worried about what to say to Jessica enough already. Now I had to worry about Edythe listening too. I sat in my usual seat, slamming my bag down in aggravation.

"Morning, Bella," Mike said from the seat next to me. I looked up to see an odd, almost tense look on his face. "How was Port Angeles?"

"It was..." There was no honest way to sum it up. "Great," I finished lamely. "Jessica got a really cute dress."

"Did she say anything about Monday night?" he asked, his eyes brightening. I smiled at the turn the conversation had taken.

"She said she had a really good time," I assured him.

"She did?" he said eagerly.

"Most definitely."

Mr. Mason called the class to order then, asking us to turn in our papers. English and then Government passed in a blur, while I agonized over the coming inquisition in Trigonometry. I could barely think of any rational explanation that would appease Jessica, and every time I remembered that Edythe would be listening to what I said through the medium of Jess's thoughts I sent myself down another anxious spiral. If it were not for the times it saved my life I would absolutely loathe her talent.

The fog had almost dissolved by the end of the second hour, but the day was still dark with low, oppressing clouds. Last week, I would have found it depressing. Today I smiled. There was something better than sunshine.

Edythe was right, of course. When I walked into Trig Jessica was sitting in the back row, nearly bouncing off her seat in agitation. I reluctantly went to sit by her, trying to convince myself it would be better to get it over with as soon as possible.

"Tell me everything!" she commanded before I was in the seat.

"What do you want to know?" I hedged.

“Are you dating Edythe Cullen? Was it supposed to be a secret? Is that why you couldn’t tell us who you liked? How did you find out she was gay?”

“Keep your voice down!” I hissed.

“C’mon, Bella!” She was still fervent but at least it was at a whisper. “What did you do with her last night?”

"She bought me dinner, and then she drove me home."

She glared at me, her expression stiff with skepticism. "How did you get home so fast?"

"She drives like a maniac. It was terrifying."

“Did she stay over? Or did she just pick you up for school?”

I could feel my face going bright red at the idea of Edythe staying the night. "No, she just picked me up, but it was a surprise, I didn’t ask her to.” 

"Are you going out again?" she probed.

"I don’t know if any of this is even ‘going out,’ technically.” That would require romantic feelings on both sides. “She offered to drive me to Seattle Saturday because she thinks my truck isn't up to it - does that count?"

"Yes." She nodded.

"Well, then, yes?" I shrugged.

"Wild." She suddenly became as frantic as she had been at the beginning of class. Her hands flew up, palms toward me like she was stopping traffic. “Wait! You didn’t tell me how you found out she was - you know…’ She trailed off, not able to say the word again.

"I don’t know if she is. I don’t think it’s like that."

“Oh.” She looked disappointed. I'm sure I did, too. “What is she getting out of this then?”

A pit formed in the middle of my stomach. The thought that had been nagging at the back of my brain since she started speaking to me again lurched forward to take up my entire mind. There was no logical reason for Edythe to be interested in me. Which meant she was going to get bored of me soon enough. The thought of her leaving now was unfathomable.

“I don’t know, Jess.” The pain in my voice was poorly disguised.

"I mean, she’s really pretty,” she added quickly. “I don’t think I could ever kiss, or like, be with a girl though.” Her nose crinkled up like she was smelling something foul.

“She’s more than just pretty.” I forced myself to focus on the first half of Jessica’s remark. I would completely lose the ability to think if I imagined myself kissing Edythe.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, first of all, ‘pretty’ is the wrong word. She’s gorgeous at the very least.” Jess rolled her eyes at me, but smiled. I knew I sounded ridiculous, but it felt like an instinct to set the record straight. “But aside from that, she’s…I can't explain it right, but she's even more unbelievable behind the face." The vampire who wanted to be good - who ran around saving lives so she wouldn't be a monster.

"Is that possible?" She giggled.

I ignored her, trying to look like I was paying attention to Mr. Varner.

"So you like her, then?" She wasn't about to give up.

"Yes," I said curtly.

"I mean; do you _really_ like her?" she pressed.

"Yes," I said again, blushing. I hoped that detail wouldn't register in her thoughts.

She'd had enough with the single syllable answers. "How much do you like her?"

"A lot," I whispered back. "Too much. More than she likes me, obviously. But I don't see how I can help that." I sighed, one blush blending into the next.

Then, thankfully, Mr. Varner called on Jessica for an answer.

She didn't get a chance to start on the subject again during class, and as soon as the bell rang, I took evasive action.

"In English, Mike asked me if you said anything about Monday night," I told her.

"You're kidding! What did you say?!" she gasped, completely sidetracked.

"I told him you said you had a lot of fun - he looked pleased."

"Tell me exactly what he said, and your exact answer!"

We spent the rest of the walk dissecting sentence structures and most of Spanish trying to analyze Jess’s descriptions of Mike's facial expressions. I wouldn't have helped draw it out for as long as I did if I wasn't worried about the subject returning to me.

And then the bell rang for lunch. As I jumped up out of my seat, shoving my books roughly in my bag, my uplifted expression must have tipped Jessica off.

"You're not sitting with us today, are you?" she guessed.

"I don't think so." I couldn't be sure that she wouldn't disappear again. I didn’t want to jinx myself.

But outside the door to our Spanish class, leaning against the wall - looking more like a Greek goddess than anyone had a right to - Edythe was waiting for me. Jessica took one look, raised her eyebrows, and took off quickly down the hallway.

"See you later, Bella." Her voice was thick with implications.

"Hello." Edythe moved from her perch on the wall to stand close by my side as she had this morning. Her gold eyes looked amused but her voice held a hint of irritation. She had been listening, it was obvious.

"Hi."

I couldn't think of anything else to say, and she didn't speak - biding her time, I presumed - so it was a quiet walk to the cafeteria. Walking with Edythe through the crowded lunchtime rush was a lot like my first day here; everyone stared.

She led the way into the line, still not speaking, though her eyes returned to my face every few seconds, their expression speculative. Even if she could read my mind, all she would be able to get now was wordless anxiety. I fidgeted nervously with the zipper on my jacket.

She stepped up to the counter and filled a tray with food.

"What are you doing?" I objected. "You're not getting all that for me?"

She shook her head with a smile, stepping forward to the cash register.

"Half is for me, of course."

I raised one eyebrow.

She walked across the cafeteria, mouth still in a wide grin, toward the same table we'd sat that one time before. Could that have only been last week? It seemed like it was years, a lifetime’s worth of secrets shared. Everything was different between us now. Well, almost everything.

"Take whatever you want," she said, pushing the tray toward me.

"I'm curious," I said as I picked up an apple, turning it around in my hands, "what would you do if someone dared you to eat food?"

"You're always curious." She grimaced, shaking her head. She held my eyes as she lifted the slice of pizza off the tray, and deliberately bit off a mouthful, chewed quickly, and then swallowed. I watched, eyes wide.

"If someone dared you to eat dirt, you could, couldn't you?" she asked condescendingly.

I grinned at her. “I did once… on a dare. It wasn’t so bad.”

She laughed. "I suppose I'm not surprised." Something over my shoulder seemed to pull her attention.

"Jessica's analyzing everything I do - she'll break it down for you later." She pushed the rest of the pizza toward me. The mention of Jessica brought a hint of her former irritation back to her face.

I put down the apple and took a bite of the pizza, looking away, knowing she was about to start my second interrogation of the day.

"Have I really been that subtle?" she asked casually.

"What do you mean?"

“You’re incredibly intelligent, Bella. You can’t think of one reason I might enjoy spending time with you?”

I shrugged, my eyes intently focused on the tray of overflowing food, desperately trying to will my face not to flush.

“Will you please tell me what you’re thinking?”

Reluctantly, I looked back up to meet her gaze. She was leaning closer towards me, her hands folded under her chin. My breath hitched in my throat in surprise. Her eyes widened; pleading.

“Not any concrete reasons,” I finally admitted. “Pity for the fact I seem to be a hazard to myself and others? I don’t know, Edythe. I just don’t see you being interested in... whatever this is for very long.” Saying the words out loud made the pit in my stomach open even wider.

“Whatever this is…” she repeated, trailing off. Her mouth twisted into a funny half-smile, half-frown. “Surprisingly, I actually agree with Jessica. 'Going out' is a fairly accurate term. I’d consider it a close enough definition as any other.”

I could feel my face contort with confusion. Her words barely registered as English.

“Bella.” Her voice was soft but stern. “I think we are getting very much the same thing out of this.”

“Oh,” I breathed. I was vaguely aware of my heartbeat thundering in my ears.

“Is it really so hard to believe I care for you?”

“Kind of! I mean, look at you. You’re incredible and- “

“And gorgeous, I know, I heard,” she interrupted, a grin wide across her face.

“Edythe, I’m being serious! I’m completely ordinary, and you’re _you_.” I looked away again, embarrassed. I stared at my hands, wringing my fingers, as I tried to sum up the impossibility of her assertion. “And I don’t know if I can explain it right. but sometimes it seems like you're trying to say goodbye when you're saying something else."

“Perceptive,” she whispered. And there was the anguish again, surfacing as she confirmed my worst fear.

“Those things aren’t connected, though. You are easily the least ordinary person I’ve ever met.”

I rolled my eyes at that, but when I met her gaze again she seemed earnest. Our eyes held for a long moment. Mine searched hers, as I tried to believe she could see something important enough to keep her here.

Her voice was barely audible as she continued. “The more I care about you, the more crucial it is that I find a way to… keep you safe. From me. Leaving would be the right thing to do.”

I shook my head, not letting myself go down the rabbit hole of that possibility. The pit of dread would rip me in two.

She took a deep breath. “Well, I wasn’t very good at leaving you alone when I tried. I don’t know how to do it.”

“Then don’t worry about it,” I joked, though I wanted nothing more than for her to forget that idea entirely.

She half-smiled. “I suppose, given the frequency of your near-death experiences, it’s actually safer for me to stay close.”

“Very true. You never know when another rogue van might attack.”

She frowned.

“You’re still going to Seattle with me, right? Lots of vans in Seattle. Waiting in ambush around literally every corner.”

“Actually, I have a question for you on that subject. Did you really need to go to Seattle this Saturday, or was that just an excuse to get out of saying a definitive no to all of your admirers?”

“Oh, completely an excuse, why do you ask?”

“Would you mind if we did something different?"

As long as the "we" part was in, I didn't care about anything else.

"I'm open to alternatives," I allowed. "But I do have a favor to ask."

She looked wary, as she always did when I asked an open-ended question. "What?"

"Can I drive?"

She frowned. "Why?"

"Well, mostly because when I told Charlie I was going to Seattle, he specifically asked if I was going alone and, at the time, I was. If he asked again, I probably wouldn't lie, but I don't think he will ask again, and leaving my truck at home would just bring up the subject unnecessarily. And also, because your driving frightens me."

She rolled her eyes. “Of all the things about me that could frighten you, you worry about my driving.” She shook her head in disgust, but then her eyes were serious again. “Won’t you want to tell your father that you’re spending the day with me?” There was an undercurrent to her question that I didn’t understand.

"With Charlie, less is always more." I was definite about that. "What do you want to do instead?"

"The weather will be nice, so I'll be staying out of the public eye... and you can stay with me if you'd like to." Again, she was leaving the choice up to me.

"And you'll show me what you meant, about the sun?" I asked, excited by the idea of unraveling another of the unknowns.

“Yes.” She smiled, then hesitated. “But if you don’t want to be… alone with me, I’d still rather you didn’t go to Seattle by yourself. I shudder to think of all the vans.”

“As it happens, I don’t mind being alone with you.”

“I know,” she sighed. “You should tell Charlie, though.”

"Why in the world would I do that?"

Her eyes were suddenly fierce. "To give me some small incentive to bring you back."

I waited for her to relax. When she didn’t, I said, “I’ll take my chances.”

She exhaled angrily and looked away.

“So that’s settled. New topic?”

My attempt to change the subject didn’t help much.

“What do you want to talk about?” she asked through her teeth, still annoyed.

I glanced around us, making sure we were well out of anyone's hearing. As I cast my eyes around the room, I caught the eyes of her sister, Alice, staring at me. The others were looking at Edythe. I looked away swiftly, back to her, and I asked the first thing that came to mind.

"Why did you go to that Goat Rocks place last weekend... to hunt? Charlie said it wasn't a good place to hike, because of bears."

She stared at me as if I was missing something very obvious.

“Bears?” I gasped.

She smirked.

“You know, bears are not in season,” I added sternly, to cover my shock.

“If you read carefully, the laws only cover hunting with weapons,” she informed me.

She watched my face with enjoyment as that slowly sank in.

“Bears?” I repeated with difficulty.

"Grizzly is Emmett's favorite." Her voice was still offhand, but her eyes were scrutinizing my reaction. I tried to pull myself together.

"Hmmm," I said, taking another bite of pizza as an excuse to look down. I chewed slowly, and then took a long drink of Coke without looking up. This was normal to her; it was going to have to become normal for me.

"So," I said after a moment, finally meeting her now-anxious gaze. "What's your favorite?"

She raised an eyebrow and the corners of her mouth turned down in disapproval. "Mountain lion."

"Mmm, good choice, " I said in a politely disinterested tone, looking for my soda again.

“Of course,” she said, her tone mirroring mine, nothing out of the ordinary, “we have to be careful not to impact the environment with injudicious hunting. We try to focus on areas with an overpopulation of predators—ranging as far away as we need. There's always plenty of deer and elk here, and they’ll do, but where’s the fun in that?” She smiled teasingly.

"Where indeed," I murmured around another bite of pizza.

"Early spring is Emmett's favorite bear season - they're just coming out of hibernation, so they're more irritable." He smiled at some remembered joke.

"Nothing more fun than an irritated grizzly bear," I agreed, nodding.

She snickered, shaking her head. "Tell me what you're really thinking, please."

"I'm trying to picture it - but I can't," I admitted. "How do you hunt a bear without weapons?"

“Oh, we have weapons.” She flashed her bright teeth with a wide grin that wasn’t really a smile. “Just not the kind they consider when writing hunting laws. If you’ve ever seen a bear attack on television, you should be able to visualize Emmett hunting.”

I couldn't stop the next shiver that flashed down my spine. I peeked across the cafeteria toward Emmett, grateful that he wasn't looking my way. The thick bands of muscle that wrapped his arms and torso were somehow even more menacing now.

Edythe followed my gaze and chuckled. I stared back at her, unnerved.

"Are you like a bear, too?" I asked in a low voice.

"More like the lion, or so they tell me," she said lightly. "Perhaps our preferences are indicative."

“Perhaps,” I repeated. I tried to smile, but my mind was struggling to fit the paradoxical images together. “Could I see that someday?”

"Absolutely not!" Her face turned even whiter than usual, and her eyes were suddenly horrified. I leaned back, stunned. She leaned back as well, folding her arms across her chest.

"What, too scary for me?"

"If that were it, I would take you out tonight," she said, her voice cutting. "You need a healthy dose of fear. Nothing could be more beneficial for you."

"Then why?" I pressed, trying to ignore her angry expression.

She glared at me for a long minute.

"Later," she finally said. She was on her feet in one fluid movement. "We're going to be late."

I glanced around, startled to see that she was right and the cafeteria was nearly vacant. When I was with her, the time and the place were such a muddled blur that I completely lost track of both. I jumped up, grabbing my bag from the back of my chair.

"Later, then," I agreed. I wouldn't forget.


	12. COMPLICATIONS

Everyone watched us as we walked together to our lab table. I noticed that she no longer angled the chair to sit as far from me as the desk would allow. Instead, she sat quite close beside me, our arms almost touching.

Mr. Banner backed into the room then - what superb timing the man had - pulling a tall metal frame on wheels that held a heavy-looking, outdated TV and VCR. A movie day - the lift in the class atmosphere was almost tangible. I was relieved, too. I knew I wouldn’t have been able to pay attention to a lecture today. I had too much to sort through inside my head already.

Mr. Banner shoved the tape into the reluctant VCR and walked to the wall to turn off the lights.

It wasn’t like I didn’t already know that Edythe was right there, just an inch away from me. I wouldn’t have imagined that I could be any more aware of her. But in the dark, somehow… it was like there was electricity flowing between us. I was hyperaware of just how little space there was between us, a slight twitch of my hand and I could easily grab hers. The crazy impulse to reach over and touch her, to stroke her perfect face just once in the darkness, nearly overwhelmed me. I crossed my arms tightly across my chest, my hands balling into fists. I was losing my mind.

The opening credits began, lighting the room by a token amount. My eyes, of their own accord, flickered to her. I smiled sheepishly as I realized her posture was identical to mine: fists clenched under her arms, right down to the eyes, peering sideways at me. She grinned back, her eyes burning, even in the dark. I looked away before I could start hyperventilating. It was absolutely ridiculous that I should feel dizzy.

It was a very long hour. I couldn't concentrate on the movie. I didn’t have any idea what it was about. I tried unsuccessfully to relax, but the inexplicable electric current never slackened. Occasionally I would permit myself a glance in her direction, but she never seemed to relax, either. The overpowering craving to touch her also refused to fade, and I crushed my fists safely against my ribs until my fingers were aching with the effort.

I breathed a sigh of relief when Mr. Banner flicked the lights back on at the end of class, and stretched my arms out in front of me, flexing my stiff fingers. Edythe laughed once.

"Well, that was interesting," she murmured. Her voice was low and her eyes were cautious.

"Umm," was all I was able to respond.

"Shall we?" she asked, standing promptly. It looked like she was stifling a grin, was she considering pulling out my chair for me? Hopefully she knew how ridiculous that would look, chivalry be damned.

I almost groaned. Time for Gym. I stood with care, worried my balance might have been affected by the strange new intensity between us.

She walked with me to my next class in silence and paused at the door; I turned to say goodbye. Her face startled me - her expression was torn, almost pained, and so fiercely beautiful that the ache to touch her flared as strong as before. My goodbye stuck in my throat.

She raised one hand, hesitant, conflict clear in her eyes, and then swiftly brushed the length of my cheekbone with her fingertips. Her skin was as icy as ever, but the trail her fingers left on my skin was alarmingly warm - like I'd been burned, but didn't feel the pain of it yet.

She turned without a word and strode quickly away from me.

I walked into the gym, perplexed and still a little lightheaded, changing in a trancelike state, only vaguely aware that other people were surrounding me. Reality didn't fully set in until I was handed a racket. It wasn't heavy, yet it felt very unsafe in my hand. I could see a few of the other kids in class eyeing me furtively. Coach Clapp ordered us to pair up into teams.

Mercifully, some vestiges of Mike's loyalty still survived; he came to stand beside me.

"Do you want to be a team?"

"Thanks, Mike - you don't have to do this, you know." I grimaced apologetically.

"Don't worry, I'll keep out of your way." He grinned. Sometimes it was so easy to like Mike.

It didn't go smoothly. I somehow managed to hit myself in the head with my racket and clip Mike's shoulder on the same swing. I spent the rest of the hour in the back corner of the court, the racket held safely behind my back. Despite being stuck with me, Mike was pretty good; he won three games out of four singlehandedly.

"So," he said as we walked off the court.

"So what?"

"You and Cullen, huh?" he asked, his tone barely hiding the hostility. My previous feeling of affection disappeared.

"That's none of your business, Mike," I warned, internally cursing Jessica straight to the fiery pits of Hades.

"I don't like it," he muttered anyway.

"You don't have to," I snapped.

"It’s weird. I didn’t think it was true. Everyone knows the Cullens are a bunch of freaks but I didn’t realize you were one too,” he continued, ignoring me.

“What the hell, Mike? That's a shitty thing for a friend to say.” I hoped the anger in my voice would disguise how much that comment hurt.  
  
“Well, then we shouldn't be friends, I guess,” he grumbled as he stormed off into the locker room.

I chewed into my lip as I tried to fight back tears. I rushed to get change, trying to find something to distract from the crushing weight of embarrassment. Luckily my mind quickly turned to the only thing that could distract me at this moment: Edythe.

Would she be waiting for me outside the gym or should I go wait by her car? What if her family was there? Had she told them that I knew? Was I supposed to know that they knew that I knew? What was the etiquette on vampire acknowledgments? Did a nod work? I was working myself into a new meltdown, deciding the safest course of action was probably to walk straight home avoiding the parking lot completely.

But my worries were unnecessary. Edythe was waiting, leaning casually against the side of the gym, her face much more relaxed, though there was a hint of anxiety still in her eyes. As I walked to her side, I felt a strange sense of harmony—like everything was right in the world as long as I was close to her.

"Hi," I breathed. I could feel the huge, goofy smile on my face.

"Hello." Her answering smile was brilliant. "How was Gym?"

My face fell a tiny bit. "Fine," I lied.

"Really?" She was unconvinced. Her eyes shifted their focus slightly, looking over my shoulder and narrowing. I glanced behind me to see Mike's back as he walked away.

"What- you weren't listening again?"

Her eyes slid back to mine, still anxious. "His thoughts were particularly loud today. Are you alright? That was… unkind doesn’t begin to cover it."

“I-yeah, I am.” In truth, the sting of his words had all but vanished when I was with Edythe.

“I’d go back there and make him sorry, but I think that would probably upset you,” she muttered with a smirk.  
  
“Not as much as it might normally,” I laughed. “What he said wasn’t nice to you either.”

She joined my laughter then. “So that’s your limit for violence, then? Men who were prepared to commit the absolute worst of crimes- no I have to leave them alone! Insults from Mike Newton on the other hand…”

Her voice had turned bitter, but I didn’t mind, it was clear in her eyes that her mood was still light. Though I wondered how vividly she was planning Mike’s hypothetical assault. My eyes were fixated on her instead of where we were going, so I was surprised when we had to slow, blocked from Edythe’s car by a crowd of kids. They were circled around Rosalie's red convertible, unmistakable lust in their eyes. None of them even looked up as Edythe slid between them to open her door. I climbed in quickly to the passenger side, also unnoticed.

"Ostentatious," she muttered.

"What kind of car is that?" I asked.

"An M3."

"I don't know what that means.”

"It's a BMW." She rolled her eyes, not looking at me, trying to back out without running over the car enthusiasts.

I nodded - I'd heard of that at least.

We pulled away from the school and it was just the two of us. The privacy felt like freedom. There was no one watching or listening here.

“Is it later yet?” I asked her.

She didn’t miss the significance in my tone.

She frowned. "I supposed it is."

I kept my expression polite as I waited for her to explain. She stopped the car. I looked up, surprised - of course, we were already at Charlie's house, parked behind the truck. It was easier to ride with her if I only looked when it was over. When I looked back at her, she was staring at me, measuring with her eyes.

"I apologize for reacting like that," she said with a slight smile, but then all evidence of teasing disappeared. "You asked if it was ‘too scary’ for you, but in truth, it terrifies _me_. The thought of you being there... while we hunted..." Her jaw tightened.

"That would be bad?"

She spoke from between clenched teeth. "Extremely."

"Why?"

I could tell it was an uncomfortable topic for her, the air in the car was thick with tension, but I felt a desperate need to get as much information from her- about her- as possible. She took a deep breath and stared through the windshield at the thick, rolling clouds that seemed to press down, almost within reach.

"When we hunt," she spoke slowly, unwillingly, "we give ourselves over to our senses... govern less with our minds. Especially our sense of smell. If you were anywhere near me when I lost control that way..." She shook her head, still gazing morosely at the heavy clouds.

I kept my expression firmly under control, expecting the swift flash of her eyes to judge my reaction that soon followed. My face gave nothing away.

We both remained frozen, and the silence deepened - and changed. Flickers of the electricity I'd felt this afternoon began to charge the atmosphere as her eyes met mine and remained there, unblinking. It wasn't until my head started to swim that I realized I wasn't breathing. When I drew in a jagged breath, breaking the stillness, she looked away. The connection should have been broken, now that we weren’t staring, but the heat of it still hummed in the car. Could she still feel it too?

"Bella, I think you should go inside now." Her voice was low, her eyes on the clouds again.

I opened the door, and the arctic draft that burst into the car helped clear my head. Afraid I might stumble in my woozy state, I stepped carefully out of the car and shut the door behind me without looking back. For all the answers I had gotten today I still left feeling confused as ever. She revealed so much, but for every question, there was always the moment of hesitation, of her putting more space between us again. Would there be a question that was too much for her? Would I push her away forever?

The whir of the automatic window unrolling made me turn.

"Oh, Bella?" she called after me, her voice more even. She leaned toward the open window with a faint smile on her lips.

"Yes?"

"Tomorrow it's my turn."

"Your turn to what?"

She smiled wider, flashing her gleaming teeth. "Ask the questions."

And then she was gone, the car speeding down the street and disappearing around the corner before I could even collect my thoughts. I smiled as I walked to the house. It was clear she was planning to see me tomorrow if nothing else.

That night Edythe starred in my dreams, as usual. However, the climate of my unconsciousness had changed. It thrilled with the same electricity that had charged the afternoon, and I tossed and turned restlessly, waking often. But even when I was awake, the electric current didn’t dwindle. I got up once, trying to get a grip- and ideally to relax- but it didn’t let up. My mind was entirely giving up in its exhaustion, I was losing the line between my dreams and reality. It was only in the early hours of the morning that I finally sank into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

When I woke I was still tired, but edgy as well. Unsurprisingly, I was met with dark clouds and drizzle. I pulled on a brown turtleneck, missing the warmth, but no longer hoping to see the sun. The sacrifice was more than worth it now.

Breakfast was the usual, quiet event I expected. Charlie fried eggs for himself; I had my bowl of cereal. I wondered if he had forgotten about my Seattle trip. If only it could be that convenient.

“About this Saturday…,” he began, like he could read my mind. I was getting really paranoid about that specific concern.

“Yeah?”

"Are you still set on going to Seattle?" he asked.

"That was the plan." I grimaced, wishing he hadn't brought it up so I wouldn't have to compose careful half-truths.

He squeezed some dish soap onto his plate and swirled it around with the brush. "And you're sure you can't make it back in time for the dance?"

"I'm not going to the dance, Dad." I glared.

"Didn't anyone ask you?" he asked, trying to hide his concern by focusing on rinsing the plate.

I sidestepped the minefield. "It's a girl's choice."

"Oh." He frowned as he dried his plate.

It must be a hard thing, to be a father; living in fear that your daughter would meet a boy she liked, but also having to worry if she didn't. Or worrying she would never be interested in any boy. Maybe he was more concerned with me being an outcast, missing one of the only social events of the year for Forks. That would be better than him hypothesizing over my romantic prospects. I shuddered, thinking of the chaos that could ensue if Charlie had any idea what my type actually was.

Charlie left with a quick goodbye, and I went upstairs to brush my teeth and gather my books. When I heard the cruiser pull away, I could only wait a few seconds before I had to peek out of my window. The silver car was already there, waiting in Charlie's spot on the driveway. I bounded down the stairs and out the front door, wondering how long this bizarre routine would continue. I never wanted it to end.

She waited in the car, not appearing to watch as I shut the door behind me without bothering to lock the deadbolt. I walked to the car, then hesitated for just a second before I opened the door and climbed in. She was smiling, relaxed—and, as usual, so perfect it was painful.

Her gaze lingered on the circles under my eyes. “You look tired.”

"I couldn't sleep," I admitted, automatically swinging my hair around my shoulder to provide some measure of cover.

"Neither could I," she teased as she started the engine. I was becoming used to the quiet purr. I was sure the roar of my truck would scare me, whenever I got to drive it again.

I laughed. "I guess that's right. I suppose I slept just a little bit more than you did."

"I'd wager you did."

"So what did you do last night?" I asked.

She laughed. “Not a chance. It’s my day to ask questions.”

"Oh, right. What do you want to know?" My forehead creased. I couldn't imagine anything about me that could be in any way interesting to her.

"What's your favorite color?" she asked.

I rolled my eyes. “Seriously?”

“Absolutely.” Her voice didn’t betray any humor if this was a joke.

“I don’t know, maybe brown?”

She snorted, dropping her serious expression. "You don’t sound so sure about that."

"No, I like brown,” I said, suddenly defensive. “Brown is warm. I miss that. Everything that's supposed to be brown - tree trunks, rocks, dirt - is all covered up with squashy green stuff here," I complained.

She considered for a moment, staring into my eyes.

"You're right," she decided, serious again. "Brown is warm." She reached over, swiftly, but somehow still hesitantly, to sweep my hair back behind my shoulder.

We were outside the school now. She turned back to me as she pulled into a parking space.

"What music is in your CD player right now?”

“Uh,” I stalled, trying to remember. I realized I'd never removed the CD Phil had given me. “Linkin Park. Hybrid Theory, I think it’s called?”

She flipped open a compartment under the car's CD player, pulled out one of thirty or so CDs that were jammed into the small space, and handed it to me.

"Debussy to this?" She raised an eyebrow.

It was the same CD. I examined the familiar cover art, keeping my eyes down.

“It was a gift; I definitely wouldn’t have picked it for myself. It’s not bad though,” I rambled, too embarrassed to tell her why I had listened to it so many times over.

“What would you have picked for yourself?”

It continued like that for the rest of the day. While he walked me to English, when he met me after Spanish, all through the lunch hour, he questioned me relentlessly about every insignificant detail of my existence. Movies I'd liked and hated, the few places I'd been and the many places I wanted to go, and books - endlessly books.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd talked so much. I felt self-conscious the whole time, knowing I had to be boring her. But she always seemed on the edge of her seat waiting for my answers, she always had a follow-up question, she always wanted more. So I went along with the psychoanalysis since it seemed to matter to her. Mostly her questions were easy, only a very few triggering my easy blushes. But when I did flush, it brought on a whole new round of questions.

Such as the time she asked my favorite gemstone, and I blurted out topaz before thinking. She'd been flinging questions at me with such speed that I felt like I was taking one of those psychiatric tests where you answer with the first word that comes to mind. I was sure she would have continued down whatever mental list she was following, except for the blush. Naturally, she wouldn't rest until I'd admitted why I was embarrassed.

"Tell me," she insisted. It was clear she wasn’t going to move on until I answered.

"It's the color of your eyes today," I sighed, surrendering, staring down at my hands as I fiddled with a piece of my hair. "I suppose if you asked me in two weeks I'd say onyx." I'd given more information than necessary in my unwilling honesty, and I worried it would provoke the strange anger that flared whenever I slipped and revealed too clearly how obsessed I was.

But she only paused for a moment.

"What kinds of flowers do you prefer?" she fired off.

I sighed, relieved to return to the psychoanalysis. “Dahlias for looks. Lavender and lilacs for fragrance.”

“I know you don’t watch sports, but did you ever play any?” She smirked, probably aware of the disaster my clumsiness would cause in organized sports. Maybe she was gearing up to ask about my most embarrassing moment.

“No, gym in school was, or is, I guess, the closest.”

“Your mother never put you on a soccer team?’

“My mom liked to keep the weekends open for adventures.” Would it bring back the expected pang of loneliness to go into detail about my mother? I paused, but no such pain came. I knew exactly why I suddenly felt so at ease in Forks; the reason was sitting directly across from me. The least I could do was humor her as long as she seemed interested. “I did Girl Scouts for a while, and once she put me in a dance class but that was a mistake. She thought it would be convenient because it was close enough for me to walk there after school, but no convenience was worth the mayhem.”

“Mayhem?” She seemed skeptical.

“If I had Ms. Kamenev’s number, she would say the same.” It had been so long; I could laugh instead of shudder when I remembered her rage on that last day. I was a mess from the beginning, she should have known better than to get so close in an attempt to help me with an arabesque. When she sent Renee her hospital bill for the broken nose it was more than enough to put an end to dance.

I looked up at Edythe, wondering if she would make me explain, but the motion in the cafeteria pulled my focus. Just like it always did, the time passed too quickly when I was with her.

She continued with her quizzing as we walked to Biology, but she seemed less invested somehow. Had I finally bored her? Or was she just anxious as I was to sit through another day of the strange magnetic pull the dark classroom seemed to cause? As Mr. Banner approached the light switch, I saw Edythe slide her chair a half-inch farther away from mine. It didn’t help. As soon as the room was dark, there was that same electric spark, the same restless craving to stretch my hand across the short space and touch her cold, smooth skin.

It was like an itch that just got more and more demanding. I couldn’t pay attention to anything else.

I leaned back in my chair, gripping the edges of the seat as hard as possible as I fought to ignore the irrational longing that unsettled me. I didn't look at over, afraid that if she was looking at me, it would only make self-control that much harder.

White-knuckling it turned out to be a poor idea, however, and after a little while, maybe fifteen minutes—or maybe it was only two and it just felt so long because of the electricity- I had to loosen my grip and stretch my hands. But when I extended my fingers they brushed against something cool and icy. Against my better judgment, I turned my head to look at Edythe. Her eyes were still glued to the front of the class, but her arm had extended towards mine. Cautiously, I curled my fingers around hers. Her expression didn’t change in the slightest, but her hand closed around mine, so slowly it was excruciating. Even though we were finally touching, the electricity didn’t dwindle. Instead, it grew stronger, changing into bigger jolts. I was certain Edythe felt the change as well, but her grip never slackened, and I had no intention of letting go.

It could have been ages – I wouldn’t have noticed -- before Mr. Banner turned the lights on again, and Edythe promptly removed her hand from mine. I fought the instinctual urge to rub warmth back into my freezing palm. I wanted this reminder to linger.

We walked toward the gym in silence, her questions pausing for the first time today. As the numbness in my hand throbbed, so did the strange current between us, even in the light. Edythe’s face was unreadable as she said a short goodbye, and she left before I could say anything in return.

Gym passed quickly as I watched Mike's one-man badminton show. He didn't speak to me today, which was to be expected, and I was all the better for it. Even if I cared, I couldn't concentrate on him.

I felt the same sense of harmony when I walked out of the gym door and saw Edythe standing there, a wide smile automatically spreading across my face. She smiled in return before launching into more cross-examination.

Her questions were different now, not as easily answered. She wanted to know what I missed about home, insisting on descriptions of anything she wasn't familiar with. We sat in front of Charlie's house for hours, as the sky darkened and rain plummeted around us in a sudden deluge.

I tried to describe impossible things like the scent of creosote - bitter, slightly resinous, but still pleasant - the high, keening sound of the cicadas in July, the feathery barrenness of the trees, the very size of the sky, extending white-blue from horizon to horizon, barely interrupted by the low mountains covered with purple volcanic rock. The hardest thing to explain was why it was so beautiful to me - to justify a beauty that didn't depend on the sparse, spiny vegetation that often looked half-dead, a beauty that had more to do with the exposed shape of the land, with the shallow bowls of valleys between the craggy hills, and the way they held on to the sun.

Her quiet, probing questions kept me talking freely, forgetting, in the dim light of the storm, to be embarrassed for monopolizing the conversation. Finally, when I had finished detailing my cluttered room at home, she paused instead of responding with another question.

"Are you finished?" I asked in relief.

"Not even close - but your father will be home soon."

I looked out at the rain-darkened sky, but it gave nothing away. "How late is it?" I wondered out loud as I glanced at the clock.

"It's twilight," Edythe said under her breath looking toward the western horizon, hidden behind the clouds. Her voice was thoughtful as if her mind were far away. I stared at her while her eyes were fixed out the windshield.

I was still staring when her eyes suddenly shifted back to mine.

"It's the safest time of day for us," she said, answering the unspoken question in my eyes. "The easiest time. But also the saddest, in a way... the end of another day, the return of the night. Darkness is so predictable; don't you think?" She smiled wistfully.

"I like the night. Without the dark, we'd never see the stars." I frowned. "Not that you see them here much."

She laughed, and the mood abruptly lightened.

"Charlie will be here in a few minutes. So, unless you want to tell him that you'll be with me Saturday..." She raised one eyebrow.

"Thanks, but no thanks." I gathered my books, realizing I was stiff from sitting still so long. "So is it my turn tomorrow, then?"

"Certainly not!" She pretended to be outraged. "I told you I wasn't done, didn't I?"

"What more is there?"

"You'll find out tomorrow." She reached across to open my door for me, and her sudden proximity sent my heart into frenzied palpitations.

But her hand froze on the handle.

“Oh no,” she breathed.

"What is it?"

I was surprised to see that her jaw was clenched, her brows pulled down into a hard line over her eyes. She glanced at me for one brief second.

"Another complication," she muttered.

She flung the door open in one swift movement, and then moved, almost cringed, swiftly away from me.

Headlights flashed through the rain. I looked up, expecting Charlie and a bunch of explanations to follow, but it was a dark sedan I didn’t recognize.

“Hurry,” she urged.

I hopped out at once, despite my confusion and curiosity. The rain was louder as it ricocheted off my jacket.

I tried to make out the shapes in the front seat of the other car, but it was too dark. I could see Edythe illuminated in the glare of the new car's headlights; she was still staring ahead, her gaze locked on something or someone I couldn't see. Her expression was a strange mix of frustration and defiance.

Then she revved the engine, and the tires squealed against the wet pavement. The Volvo was out of sight in seconds.

"Hey, Bella," called a familiar, husky voice from the driver's side of the little black car.

"Jacob?" I asked, squinting through the rain. Just then, Charlie's cruiser swung around the corner, his lights shining on the occupants of the car in front of me.

Jacob was already climbing out, his wide grin visible even through the darkness. In the passenger seat was a much older man, a heavyset man with a memorable face - a face that overflowed, the cheeks resting against his shoulders, with creases running through his russet skin like an old leather jacket. And the surprisingly familiar eyes, black eyes that seemed at the same time both too young and too ancient for the broad face they were set in. Jacob's father, Billy Black. I knew him immediately, though in the more than five years since I'd seen him last I'd managed to forget his name when Charlie had spoken of him my first day here. He was staring at me, scrutinizing my face, so I smiled tentatively at him. His eyes were wide as if in shock or fear, his nostrils flared. My smile faded.

Another complication, Edythe had said.

Billy still stared at me with intense, anxious eyes. I groaned internally. Had Billy recognized Edythe so easily? Could he really believe the impossible story his son had scoffed at?

The answer was clear in Billy's eyes. Yes. Yes, he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient! I know I've gotten off schedule a bit, but I appreciate everyone reading this. This was totally a quarantine passion project, so the fact other people are consistently reading has me incredibly grateful.


	13. BALANCING

"Billy!" Charlie called as soon as he got out of the car.

I turned toward the house, beckoning to Jacob as I ducked under the porch. I heard Charlie greeting them loudly behind me.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't see you behind the wheel, Jake."

"We get permits early on the rez," Jacob said while I unlocked the door and flicked on the porch light.

Charlie laughed. “Sure you do.”

"I have to get around somehow." I recognized Billy's resonant voice easily, despite the years. The sound of it made me feel suddenly younger, a child.

I went inside, leaving the door open behind me and turning on lights before I hung up my jacket. Then I stood in the door, watching anxiously as Charlie and Jacob helped Billy out of the car and into his wheelchair.

I backed out of the way as the three of them hurried in, shaking off the rain.

"This is a surprise," Charlie was saying.

"It's been too long," Billy answered. "I hope it's not a bad time." His dark eyes flashed up to me again.

"No, it's great. I hope you can stay for the game."

Jacob grinned. "I think that's the plan - our TV broke last week."

Billy made a face at his son. "And, of course, Jacob was anxious to see Bella again," he added, and Jacob returned the scowl.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, turning toward the kitchen. I was eager to escape Billy's searching gaze.

"Nah, we ate just before we came," Jacob answered.

"How about you, Charlie?" I called over my shoulder as I fled around the corner.

"Sure," he replied, his voice moving in the direction of the front room and the TV. I could hear Billy's chair follow.

The grilled cheese sandwiches were in the frying pan and I was slicing up a tomato when I sensed someone behind me.

"So, how are things?" Jacob asked.

"Pretty good." I smiled. His enthusiasm was hard to resist. "How about you? Did you finish your car?"

"No." He frowned. "I still need parts. We borrowed that one." He pointed with his thumb in the direction of the front yard.

"Sorry. I haven't seen any... what was it you were looking for?"

"Master cylinder." He grinned. "Is something wrong with the truck?" he added suddenly.

"No."

"Oh. I just wondered because you weren't driving it."

I stared down at the pan, pulling up the edge of a sandwich to check the bottom side. "I got a ride with a friend."

"Nice ride. I didn't recognize the driver, though. I thought I knew most of the kids around here."

I nodded noncommittally, keeping my eyes down as I flipped sandwiches.

"My dad seemed to know her from somewhere."

I cringed. No avoiding this then. Might as well try and keep it light.

“Yeah, probably,” I kept my eyes down as I did my best to fake a smile. “It was Edythe Cullen.”

Thankfully, he laughed. I glanced up at him. He looked a little embarrassed.

"Guess that explains it, then," he said. "I wondered why my dad was acting so strange."

"I didn’t realize he disliked the Cullens _that_ much."

"Superstitious old man," Jacob muttered under his breath.

"You don't think he'd say anything to Charlie?" I couldn't help asking, the words coming out in a low rush.

Jacob stared at me for a moment, and I couldn't read the expression in his dark eyes. "I doubt it," he finally answered. "I think Charlie chewed him out pretty good last time. They haven't spoken much since - tonight is sort of a reunion, I think. I don't think he'd bring it up again."

"Oh," I said, trying to sound indifferent.

I stayed in the front room after I carried the food out to Charlie, pretending to watch the game while Jacob chattered at me. I was really listening to the men's conversation, watching for any sign that Billy was about to rat me out, trying to think of ways to stop him if he began.

It was a long night. I had a lot of homework that was going undone, but I was afraid to leave Billy alone with Charlie. Finally, after several hours of anxious surveillance, the game ended.

"Are you and your friends coming back to the beach soon?" Jacob asked as he pushed his father over the lip of the threshold.

"I'm not sure," I hedged.

"That was fun, Charlie," Billy said.

"Come up for the next game," Charlie encouraged.

"Sure, sure," Billy said. "We'll be here. Have a good night." His eyes shifted to mine, and his smile disappeared. "You take care, Bella," he added seriously.

"Thanks," I muttered, looking away.

I headed for the stairs while Charlie waved from the doorway.

"Wait, Bella," he said.

My heart stopped. Had Billy gotten something in before I'd joined them in the living room?

But Charlie was relaxed, still grinning from the unexpected visit.

"I didn't get a chance to talk to you tonight. How was your day?"

"Fine." I hesitated with one foot on the first stair, searching for details I could safely share. "My badminton team won all four games."

"Wow, I didn't know you could play badminton."

"Oh, I can't, but my partner was good," I said, internally kicking myself for bringing the topic up. Hopefully, he wouldn’t press for anything more.

"Who is it?" he asked with token interest.

So much for that. "Um... Mike Newton," I told him reluctantly.

"Oh yeah - you said you were friends with the Newton kid." He perked up. "Nice family." He mused for a minute and smiled. "Why didn't you ask him to the dance this weekend?"

"Dad!" I groaned. "He's kind of dating my friend Jessica.” He was also a complete and utter asshole, but I couldn’t say that to Charlie.

"Okaaay," he muttered, suspiciously holding out the last syllable. But he smiled at me apologetically. "So I guess it's good you'll be gone Saturday... I've made plans to go fishing with the guys from the station. The weather's supposed to be real warm. But if you wanted to put your trip off until someone could go with you, I'd stay home. I know I leave you here alone too much."

"Dad, you're doing a great job," I said, hoping my relief didn't show. "I've never minded being alone - I'm too much like you." I grinned at him, and he smiled his crinkly-eyed smile.

I slept better that night, too tired to dream again. When I woke to the pearl gray morning, my mood was blissful. The tense evening with Billy and Jacob seemed harmless enough now; I decided to forget it completely. I caught myself humming while I was pulling the front part of my hair back into a barrette, and later again as I skipped down the stairs. Charlie noticed.

"You're cheerful this morning," he commented over breakfast.

I shrugged. "It's Friday."

I hurried so I would be ready to go the second Charlie left. I had my bag ready, shoes on, teeth brushed, but even though I rushed to the door as soon as I was sure Charlie would be out of sight, Edythe was faster. She was waiting, windows down, engine off.

I didn’t hesitate this time as I climbed into the passenger seat. She grinned her crooked smile at me, stopping both my breath and my heart. I couldn’t imagine anything more perfect—human, goddess, or angel. There was nothing about her that could be improved upon.

"How did you sleep?" she asked. I wondered if she had any idea how just how beautiful her voice was.

"Fine. How was your night?"

"Pleasant." Her smile was amused; I felt like I was missing an inside joke.

"Can I ask what you did?" I asked.

"No." She grinned. "Today is still mine."

She wanted to know about people today: more about Renée, her hobbies, what we'd done in our free time together. And then the one grandmother I'd known, my few school friends - embarrassing me when she asked how I’d come out to them.

“I don’t know, I never really did in the traditional sense? I ended up in the same high school as my grade school friends, and they sort of caught on early. It was never an issue for them and it was a big enough school that nobody paid attention enough to care.”

“There was never anyone you wanted to tell? Or see if they’d be interested?”

"Not in Phoenix.” I shrugged.

We were in the cafeteria at this point. The day had sped by in the blur that was rapidly becoming routine. I took advantage of her brief pause to take a bite of my bagel.

"I should have let you drive yourself today," she announced, apropos of nothing, while I chewed.

"Why?" I demanded.

"I'm leaving with Alice after lunch."

"Oh." I blinked, bewildered and disappointed. "That's okay, it's not that far of a walk."

She sighed, exasperated. "I'm not going to make you walk home. We'll go get your truck and leave it here for you."

"I don't have my key with me. I really don't mind walking." What I minded was losing my time with her.

She shook her head. "Your truck will be here, and the key will be in the ignition - unless you're afraid someone might steal it." She laughed at the thought.

"All right," I agreed, pursing my lips. I was pretty sure my key was in the pocket of a pair of jeans I wore Wednesday, under a pile of clothes in the laundry room. Even if she broke into my house, or whatever she was planning, she'd never find it. She seemed to feel the challenge in my consent. She smirked, overconfident.

"So where are you going?" I asked as casually as I could manage.

"Hunting," she answered grimly. "If I'm going to be alone with you tomorrow, I'm going to take whatever precautions I can." Her face grew morose... and pleading. "You can always cancel, you know."

I looked down, afraid of the persuasive power of her eyes. I would not let her talk me out of our day alone, no matter how real the danger might be. It doesn’t matter, I repeated in my head.

“No,” I whispered, glancing back at her face. “I can’t.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” she murmured

I changed the subject. "What time will I see you tomorrow?" I asked, already dreading the thought of her leaving now.

"That depends... it's a Saturday, don't you want to sleep in?" she offered.

"No," I answered too fast, and she grinned.

"The same time as usual, then," she decided.

“I’m still driving, right? Do you want me to pick you up, or…?” I trailed off, realizing as I spoke that I had no idea where she lived.

“I’ll come to your place, also as usual.”

“It might freak Charlie out if he comes home to an unexplained Volvo in the driveway.”

Her smile was superior now. “I wasn’t intending to bring a car.”

“How—”

She cut me off. “What do you mean, ‘come home to’? Won’t Charlie be there?"

"No, he's fishing tomorrow." I beamed at the memory of how conveniently things had worked out.

"And if you don't return, what will he think?"

"I have no idea," I answered coolly. "He knows I've been meaning to do the laundry. Maybe he'll think I fell in the washer."

She scowled at me and I ignored it, chewing another bite of my lunch.

When her face finally relaxed—though she still didn’t look happy—I asked, “What are you hunting tonight?”

"Whatever we find in the park. We aren't going far." She stared at me, a little frustrated and a little amused by my casual reference to her unusual life.

"Why are you going with Alice?"

"She is the most... supportive." She frowned.

"And the others?" I asked timidly. "What are they?"

Her brow puckered for a brief moment. "Incredulous, for the most part."

I peeked over at her family. They sat staring off in different directions, the same as the first time I'd seen them. Only now they were four; their beautiful, bronze-haired sister sat across from me, her golden eyes troubled.

"They don't like me," I guessed.

"They don't understand why I can't leave you alone."

I grimaced. "Neither do I, for that matter."

She smiled. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever known, Bella. You fascinate me.”

I rolled my eyes, sure she was teasing now.

"Having the advantages I do," she whispered, touching her forehead discreetly, "I have a better than average grasp of human nature. People are predictable. But you... you never do what I expect. You always take me by surprise."

I looked away, my eyes wandering back to her family, self-conscious. Her words made me feel like a science experiment. I wanted to laugh at myself for expecting anything else.

"That part is easy enough to explain," she continued. I felt her eyes on my face, but I was still too embarrassed to look at her. "But there's more... and it's not so easy to put into words -"

I was still staring at the Cullens while she spoke. Suddenly Rosalie turned to look at me. No, not to look - to glare, with dark, cold eyes. I wanted to look away, but her gaze held me until Edythe whipped around to face her and hissed something under her breath, too low for me to catch.

Rosalie turned her head with a roll of her eyes, but I was relieved to be free. I looked back at Edythe, somehow even more embarrassed than before.

“Told you they didn’t like me,” I muttered. Another pang of self-doubt hit me. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to be starting anything between you and your family if you need me to--“

Edythe cut me off again. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m not saying that Rose couldn’t take me in a fair fight, but I am saying that I never have fought fair and I don’t intend to start now. She knows better than to try anything with me.” Her face twisted into a grimace as she explained. "She’s just worried. You see... it's dangerous for more than just me if, after spending so much time with you so publicly..." She looked down.

"If?"

"If this ends... badly." Her anguish was plain; I yearned to comfort her, but I had no idea how. My hand reached toward her involuntarily, and I placed my hand lightly against her elbow. She was wearing just a long-sleeved t-shirt, and the cold soaked through to my hand immediately. She didn’t move, and as I sat there I slowly realized that what she’d said should frighten me. I waited for that fear to come, but all I could feel was an ache for her pain.

And frustration - frustration that Rosalie had interrupted whatever she was about to say. I didn't know how to bring it up again.

I tried to speak in a normal voice. "And you have to leave now?"

“Yes.” She let her hands drop. I kept my hand against her forearm. She looked at the place where we were connected, and she sighed. Suddenly her mood shifted and she grinned. “It’s probably for the best. We still have fifteen minutes of that wretched movie left to endure in Biology—I don’t think I could take any more.”

I jumped, yanking my hand back towards myself. Alice - her short, inky hair in a halo of spiky disarray around her exquisite, elfin face - was suddenly standing behind Edythe’s shoulder.

Edythe greeted her without looking away from me. "Alice."

"Edythe," she answered, imitating her tone with a mocking twist.

"Alice, Bella - Bella, Alice," she introduced us, gesturing casually with her hand, a wry smile on her face.

"Hello, Bella." Her brilliant obsidian eyes were unreadable, but her smile was friendly. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Edythe flashed a dark look at her.

"Hi, Alice," I murmured shyly.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

Edythe’s voice was cold. "Nearly. I'll meet you at the car."

Alice left without another word; her walk was so fluid, so sinuous that I felt a sharp pang of jealousy.

"Should I say 'have fun,' or is that the wrong sentiment?" I asked, turning back to Edythe.

"No, 'have fun' works as well as anything." She grinned.

"Have fun, then." I worked to sound wholehearted. Of course, I didn't fool her.

"I'll try." She still grinned. "And you try to be safe, please."

"Safe in Forks - what a challenge."

"For you, it is a challenge." Her jaw hardened. "Promise."

"I promise to try to be safe," I recited. "I'll do the laundry tonight - that ought to be fraught with peril."

"Don't fall in," she mocked.

"I'll do my best."

She stood, and I rose, too.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I sighed.

"It seems like a long time to you, doesn't it?" she mused.

I nodded glumly.

"I'll be there in the morning," she promised, smiling her crooked smile. She reached across and touched the back of my hand lightly, and turned to walk away. I stared after her until she was gone.

I was sorely tempted to ditch the rest of the day, at the very least Gym, but a sudden pit in my stomach stopped me. I knew that if I disappeared now, everyone would assume I was with Edythe. Even if my romantic feelings weren’t apparent (assuming Jessica hadn’t spread my confession further than our friend group) there wasn’t a soul who didn’t notice when Edythe sat apart from her siblings, with me, at lunch. And she was worried about the time we'd spent together publicly... if things went wrong. I refused to dwell on the last thought, concentrating instead on making things safer for her.

I intuitively knew - and sensed she did, too - that tomorrow would be pivotal. Our relationship couldn't continue to balance, as it did, on the point of a knife. We would fall off one edge or the other, depending entirely upon her decision, or her instincts. My decision was made, made before I'd ever consciously chosen, and I was committed to seeing it through. Because there was nothing more terrifying to me, more excruciating, than the thought of turning away from her. It was an impossibility.

It didn’t help my concentration so much that she wasn’t next to me in Biology. The tension and electricity were gone, but my mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of tomorrow.

In Gym, Mike tried speaking to me again, and I foolishly listened, hoping for an apology. Instead, he was back to try and twist the knife further.

“Is Cullen going with you to Seattle tomorrow? I’m sure you’ll find lots of… like-minded people up there,” he sneered.

I hated the way he spit out her name as if the word was sour in his mouth. I wanted to curse him out, to make him regret every cruel or even merely petty thing he had said. 

But the same gut feeling that told me not to skip class hit me again. As much as I wanted to tell Mike off for being a tool, this was the perfect opportunity to put some separation between Edythe and myself, as far as any rumors were concerned. If tomorrow went awry, she would need an alibi.

“No, I’m not going to Seattle at all,” I said, struggling to make my voice sound like some semblance of cordial. “Something’s up with my truck’s engine. I need to get it looked at, definitely couldn’t make a drive like that.”

“What, you wouldn’t want a ride with Cullen? Hasn’t she been driving you all week?” he asked his voice dripping with disdain. 

“Edythe,” I emphasized, "isn’t around. I think she’s hiking somewhere with her sister this weekend." The lies came more naturally than usual, I noted with surprise.

"Oh," he muttered.

“Besides, I have to study for the Trig test or I’m going to fail.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled, likely disappointed to be without new dirt on Edythe to throw back in my face. This new malice from him was disheartening, but it no longer stung me to the core. I knew where I needed to be tomorrow, and despite the ever-growing fear in the back of my mind, I wouldn’t change that decision for the world.

When the school day had finally ended, I walked to the parking lot without enthusiasm. I did not especially want to walk home, but I couldn't see how she would have retrieved my truck. Then again, I was starting to believe that nothing was impossible for her. The latter instinct proved correct - my truck sat in the same space she'd parked her Volvo in this morning. I shook my head, incredulous, as I opened the unlocked door and saw the key in the ignition.

There was a piece of white paper folded on my seat. I got in and closed the door before I unfolded it. Two words were written in her elegant script.

  
Be safe.

The sound of the truck roaring to life frightened me. I laughed at myself.

When I got home, the handle of the door was locked, the deadbolt unlocked, just as I'd left it this morning. Inside, I went straight to the laundry room. It looked just the same as I'd left it, too. I dug for my jeans and, after finding them, checked the pockets. Empty. Maybe I'd hung my key up after all, I thought, shaking my head.

Following the same instinct that had prompted me to lie to Mike, I called Jessica on the pretense of wishing her luck at the dance. When she offered the same wish for my day with Edythe, I told her about the cancellation. She seemed genuinely disappointed, but it was difficult to judge her tone over the phone.

Charlie was absentminded at dinner, worried over something at work, I guessed, or maybe a basketball game, or maybe he was just really enjoying the lasagna - it was hard to tell with Charlie.

"You know, Dad..." I began, breaking into his reverie.

"What's that, Bell?"

"I think you're right about Seattle. I think I'll wait until Jessica or someone else can go with me."

"Oh," he said, surprised. "Oh, okay. So, do you want me to stay home?"

"No, don't change your plans. I've got a million things to do... homework, laundry... I need to go to the library and the grocery store. I'll be in and out all day... you go and have fun."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely, Dad. Besides, the freezer is getting dangerously low on fish - we're down to a two, maybe three years' supply."

"You're sure easy to live with, Bella." He smiled.

"I could say the same thing about you," I said, laughing. The sound of my laughter was off, but he didn't seem to notice. I felt so guilty for deceiving him that I almost took Edythe's advice and told him where I would be. Almost.

Would it be an easier cover for Edythe if everyone thought I was in Seattle? It would make more sense if I vanished there than in this uneventful town. But the thought of Charlie never even finding a piece of me, frantically searching the city -- I couldn’t bear it. Edythe would have to know that would hurt him worse in the long run. Would they label it an animal attack? I remembered what she had said about bears… it would probably be the most plausible explanation. No matter what the story ended up being, I knew I wasn’t able to process exactly how devastating it would be for him, that losing a child—even one he hadn’t seen much for the last decade—was a bigger tragedy than I was able to understand.

I guess I was choosing her over everything. And though I knew I should feel bad—wrong, guilty, sorry—I didn’t. Maybe because it didn’t feel like a choice at all.

I moved onto laundry after dinner, but it was the kind of job that only keeps hands busy. My mind had too much free time to continue to roam, and it was getting out of control. I fluctuated between anticipation so intense that it was very nearly pain and an insidious fear that picked at my resolve. I pulled her note out of my pocket much more often than necessary to absorb the two small words she'd written. She wants me to be safe, I told myself again and again. I would just hold on to the faith that, in the end, that desire would win out over the others. And what was my other choice - to cut her out of my life? Intolerable. Besides, since I'd come to Forks, it really seemed like my life was about her.

But a tiny voice in the back of my mind couldn’t help but wonder if it would hurt very much... if it ended badly.

I was relieved when it was late enough to be acceptable for bedtime. I knew I was far too stressed to sleep, so I did something I'd only done in my most anxious moments. I deliberately took unnecessary cold medicine - the kind that knocked me out for a good eight hours. I hadn’t done this since Renee and Phil’s wedding, but tomorrow would be complicated enough without me being loopy from sleep deprivation on top of everything else. While I waited for the drugs to kick in, I dried my clean hair till it was impeccably straight, and fussed over what I would wear tomorrow. With everything ready for the morning, I finally lay in my bed. I felt hyper; I couldn't stop twitching. I got up and rifled through my shoebox of CDs until I found a collection of Chopin's nocturnes. I put that on very quietly and then lay down again, concentrating on relaxing individual parts of my body. Somewhere in the middle of that exercise, the Nyquil took effect, and I gladly sank into unconsciousness.

I woke early, having slept soundly and dreamlessly thanks to my self-medication. Though I was well-rested, I slipped right back into the same hectic frenzy from the night before. I dressed in a rush, smoothing my collar against my neck, fidgeting with the tan sweater till it hung right over my jeans. I sneaked a swift look out the window to see that Charlie was already gone. A thin, cottony layer of clouds veiled the sky. They didn't look very lasting.

I ate breakfast without tasting the food, hurrying to clean up when I was done. I peeked out the window again, but nothing had changed. I had just finished brushing my teeth and was heading back downstairs when a quiet knock sent my heart thudding against my rib cage.

I flew to the door; I had a little trouble with the simple deadbolt, but I yanked the door open at last, and there she was. All the agitation dissolved as soon as I looked at her face, calm taking its place. I breathed a sigh of relief - yesterday's fears seemed foolish with her here.

She wasn't smiling at first – her face was somber. But her expression lightened as she looked me over, and she laughed.

"Good morning," she chuckled.

"What's wrong?" I glanced down to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything important, like shoes, or pants.

"We match." She laughed again. I realized she had a long, light tan sweater on, with a white collar showing underneath, and blue jeans.

“Oh no.” I laughed with her, but quickly pulled off my sweater and replaced it with a navy blue hoodie hanging on the hook by the door. I had enough to worry about today without comparing myself to someone who looked like a supermodel the entire time.

I locked the door behind me while she walked to the truck. She waited by the passenger door with a martyred expression that was easy to understand.

"We made a deal," I reminded her smugly, climbing into the driver's seat, and reaching over to unlock her door.

"Where to?" I asked.

"Put your seat belt on - I'm nervous already."

I rolled my eyes but did what she asked. “Where to?” I repeated.

"Take the one-oh-one north."

It was surprisingly difficult to concentrate on the road while feeling her gaze on my face. I compensated by driving more carefully than usual through the still-sleeping town.

"Were you planning to make it out of Forks before nightfall?"

"This truck is old enough to be your Volvo's grandfather - have some respect," I retorted.

We were soon out of the town limits, despite her pessimism. Thick underbrush and green-swathed trunks replaced the lawns and houses.

"Turn right on the one-ten," she instructed just as I was about to ask. I obeyed silently.

"Now we drive until the pavement ends."

I could hear a smile in her voice, but I was too afraid of driving off the road and proving her right to look over and be sure.

"And what's there, at the pavement's end?" I wondered.

"A trail."

"We're hiking?" Thank goodness I'd worn tennis shoes.

"Is that a problem?"

"No." I tried to make the lie sound confident. But if she thought my truck was slow...

"Don't worry, it's only five miles or so, and we're in no hurry."

Five miles. I didn't answer, so she wouldn't hear my voice crack in panic. Five miles of treacherous roots and loose stones, trying to twist my ankles or otherwise incapacitate me. This was going to be humiliating.

We drove in silence for a while as I imagined what her expression would look like by the twentieth time I face-planted.

"What are you thinking?" she asked impatiently after a few moments.

I lied again. "Just wondering where we're going."

"It's a place I like to go when the weather is nice." We both glanced out the windows at the thinning clouds after she spoke.

"Charlie said it would be warm today."

"And did you tell Charlie what you were up to?" she asked.

"Nope."

"But Jessica thinks we're going to Seattle together?" She seemed cheered by the idea.

"No, I told her you canceled on me - which is true."

"No one knows you're with me?" She was upset now.

"That depends... I assume you told Alice?"

"That's very helpful, Bella," she snapped.

I pretended I didn't hear that.

"Is it the weather? Seasonal affective disorder? Are you so depressed by Forks that it's made you suicidal?"

"You said it might cause trouble for you... us being together publicly," I reminded her.

"So you're worried about the trouble it might cause _me_ \- if _you_ don't come home?" Her voice was still angry, and bitingly sarcastic.

I nodded, keeping my eyes on the road.

She muttered something under her breath, speaking so quickly that I couldn't understand.

We were silent for the rest of the drive. I could feel the waves of infuriated disapproval rolling off of her, and I could think of nothing to say. There was no way to apologize when I wasn’t sorry.

The road ended, constricting to a thin foot trail with a small wooden marker. I parked on the narrow shoulder and stepped out, afraid because she was angry with me and I didn't have driving as an excuse not to look at her. It was warm now, warmer than it had been in Forks since the day I'd arrived, almost muggy under the clouds. I shrugged out of my hoodie and tossed it on my seat, glad that I'd worn the light, sleeveless shirt - especially if I had five miles of hiking ahead of me.

I heard her door slam and looked over to see that she'd removed her sweater, too, and pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail. Her shirt was sleeveless like mine. I sighed, realizing we were still going to match despite my attempt to change. She was facing away from me, into the unbroken forest beside my truck.

"This way," she said, glancing over her shoulder at me, eyes still annoyed. She started off into the dark forest.

"The trail?" Panic was clear in my voice as I hurried around the truck to catch up to her.

"I said there was a trail at the end of the road, not that we were taking it."

"No trail?" I asked desperately.

"I won't let you get lost." She turned then, with a mocking smile, and I stifled a gasp. She had undone the first four buttons of her blouse, exposing more of her skin than I had ever seen before. Her pale arms, her slim shoulders, the fragile-looking twigs of her collarbones, the vulnerable hollows above them, the swanlike column of her neck, the gentle swell of her breasts—don’t stare, don’t stare, don’t stare—and the ribs I could nearly count under the thin cotton. She was too perfect, I realized with a crushing wave of despair. There was no way on earth she could ever be meant for me.

She stared at me, bewildered by my tortured expression.

"Do you want to go home?" she said quietly, a different pain than mine saturating her voice.

"No." I walked forward till I was close beside her, anxious not to waste one second of whatever time I might have left with her.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice gentle.

"I'm not a good hiker," I answered dully. "You'll have to be very patient."

"I can be patient - if I make a great effort." She smiled, holding my glance, trying to lift me out of my sudden, unexplained dejection.

I tried to smile back, but the smile was unconvincing. She scrutinized my face.

"I'll take you home," she promised. I couldn't tell if the promise was unconditional, or restricted to an immediate departure. I knew she thought it was fear that upset me, and I was grateful again that I was the one person whose mind she couldn't hear.

"If you want me to hack five miles through the jungle before sundown, you'd better start leading the way," I said, attempting humor with my sarcasm but it came out too bitter. She frowned at me, struggling to understand my tone and expression for a moment, but ultimately gave up and led the way into the forest.

It wasn't as hard as I had feared. The way was mostly flat, and she held the damp ferns and webs of moss aside for me. Twice I tripped over roots, but each time her hand shot out and steadied my elbow before I could fall. When she touched me, my heart thudded and stuttered like usual. I saw her expression the second time that happened, and I was suddenly sure she could hear it.

I tried to keep from looking at her; every time I did, her beauty filled me with the same sadness. Mostly we walked in silence. Occasionally she would ask a random question that she hadn't gotten to in the past two days of interrogation. She asked about birthdays, grade school teachers, childhood pets—and I had to admit that after killing three fish in a row, I’d given up on the practice. She laughed at that, louder than usual, the bell-like bouncing back to us from the empty woods.

The hike took me most of the morning, but she never showed any sign of impatience. The forest spread out around us in a boundless labyrinth of ancient trees, and I began to be nervous that we would never find our way out again. She was perfectly at ease, comfortable in the green maze, never seeming to feel any doubt about our direction.

After several hours, the light that filtered through the canopy transformed, the murky olive tone shifting to a brighter jade. The day had turned sunny, just as she'd foretold. For the first time since we'd entered the woods, I felt a thrill of excitement - which quickly turned to impatience.

"Are we there yet?" I teased, pretending to scowl.

"Nearly." She smiled at the change in my mood. "Do you see the brightness ahead?"

I peered into the thick forest. "Um, should I?"

"Maybe it's a bit soon for your eyes."

"Time to visit the optometrist," I muttered. Her smirk grew more pronounced.

But then, after another hundred yards, I could definitely see a lightening in the trees ahead, a glow that was yellow instead of green. I picked up the pace, my eagerness growing with every step. She let me lead now, following noiselessly.

I reached the edge of the light and stepped through the last fringe of ferns into the loveliest place I had ever seen.

The meadow was small, perfectly round, and filled with wildflowers - violet, yellow, and soft white. Somewhere nearby, I could hear the bubbling music of a stream. The sun was directly overhead, filling the circle with a haze of buttery sunshine. I walked slowly, awestruck, through the soft grass, swaying flowers, and warm, gilded air. I halfway turned, wanting to share this with her, but she wasn't behind me where I thought she'd be. I spun around, searching for her with sudden alarm. Finally, I spotted her, still under the dense shade of the canopy at the edge of the hollow, watching me with cautious eyes. Only then did I remember what the beauty of the meadow had driven from my mind - the enigma of Edythe and the sun, which she'd promised to illustrate for me today.

I took a step back toward her, my eyes alight with curiosity. Her eyes were wary, reluctant. I smiled encouragingly and beckoned to her with my hand, taking another step in her direction. She held up a hand in warning, and I hesitated, rocking back onto my heels.

Edythe took a deep breath, closed her eyes, then stepped out into the bright glare of the midday sun.


	14. MEADOW

Eyes closed, Edythe stepped blindly into the light.

My heart jumped into my throat and I started sprinting toward her.

“Edythe!”

It was only when her eyes flashed open and I got close enough to begin to understand what I was seeing that I realized she hadn’t caught on fire. She threw up her hand again, palm forward, and I stumbled to a stop.

The light blazed off her skin, danced in prism-like rainbows across her face and neck, down her arms. She was so bright that I had to squint like I was trying to stare at the sun.

It took me a while to see past her incandescence to the expression on her face. She was watching me with wide eyes—it almost looked like she was afraid of something. I took a step toward her, and she cringed just slightly.

“Does that hurt you?” I whispered.

“No,” she whispered back.

I took another step toward her and she let her warning hand drop to her side. As she moved, the fire shimmered down her arm. Slowly, I circled around her, keeping my distance, just needing to absorb this, to see her from every angle. The sun played off her skin, refracting and magnifying every color light could hold.

I knew that she’d chosen her clothes with care, that she’d been determined to show me this, but the way she held herself now, shoulders tight, legs braced, made me wonder if she wasn’t second-guessing the decision now.

I finished my circle, then closed the last few feet between us. I couldn’t stop staring, even to blink.

“Edythe,” I breathed.

“Are you scared now?” she whispered.

“What? No.”

She stared searchingly into my eyes, trying to hear what I was thinking.

I reached toward her, deliberately unhurried, watching her face for permission. Her eyes opened even wider, and she froze. Carefully, slowly, I let my fingertips graze the glistening skin on the back of her arm. I was surprised to find it just as cold as ever. While my fingers were touching her, the reflections of the fire flickered against my skin, mirroring the glimmer of hers. She was so astonishing that she could make even me less ordinary.

“What are you thinking?” she whispered.

I struggled to find words. “I am… I didn’t know…I’ve never seen anything more beautiful—never imagined anything so beautiful could exist.”

Her eyes were still wary, as though she didn’t believe me. But I’d never been more honest in my life. I was too overwhelmed to filter or pretend.

She started to lift her hand, then dropped it. The shimmer flared. “It’s very strange, though,” she murmured.

“Amazing,” I breathed.

“Aren’t you repulsed by my flagrant lack of humanity?”

I shook my head. “Not even close.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You should be.”

“I’m actually feeling like humanity is pretty overrated.”

She pulled her arm from under my fingertips and folded it behind her back. Rather than take her cue, I took a half-step closer to her. I could feel the reflected shine on my face.

And she was suddenly ten feet away from me, her warning hand up again and her jaw clenched.

“I’m sorry,” I said. I wasn’t sure exactly what I had done wrong; we’d been mere inches from each other nearly the entire walk here. The tension on her face reminded me of every warning she had ever given, and I knew I was justified in my anxious spiral last night. But now, being here with her, I couldn’t make myself feel the same fear.

“I need some time,” she told me.

I couldn’t find any acceptable words, so I just nodded.

She nodded back, then walked to the middle of the meadow, making a little arc when she passed me, keeping those ten feet always between us. I walked slowly closer, and then sat down facing her when I was about five feet away.

“Is this all right?”

She nodded, but she didn’t look sure. “Just let me… concentrate.”

I sat, silent, and after a few seconds, she shut her eyes again. I was fine with that. Seeing her like this—it wasn’t something you could get tired of. I watched her, trying to understand the phenomenon, and she ignored me.

It was about a half-hour later that suddenly she lay back on the grass with one hand behind her head. The grass was long enough to partially obscure my view.

“Can I…?” I asked.

She patted the ground beside her.

I moved a few feet closer, then another foot when she didn’t object. Another few inches.

Her eyes were still closed, lids glistening pale lavender over the dark fan of lashes. Her chest rose and fell evenly, almost like she was asleep, except there was somehow a sense of effort and control to the motion. She seemed very aware of the process of breathing in and out.

I sat with my legs folded under me, my elbows on my knees, and my chin on my hands. It was very warm—the sun felt strange on my skin now that I was so used to the rain—and the meadow was still lovely, but it was just background now. It didn’t stand out. I had a new definition of beauty.

Her lips moved, and the light glittered off them while they… almost trembled. I thought she might have spoken, but the words were too quiet and too fast.

“Did you… say something?” I whispered. Sitting next to her like this, watching her shine, made me feel the need for quiet.

“Just singing to myself,” she murmured. “It calms me.”

We didn’t move for a long time—except for her lips, now and then singing too low for me to hear. An hour might have passed, maybe more. Very gradually, the tension that I hadn’t entirely processed at first drained quietly away, till everything was peaceful. It felt more surreal than anything I'd experienced and yet I'd never been more focused on absorbing what was in front of me.

Every time I shifted my weight, I would end up another half-inch nearer to her. I leaned closer, studying her hand, trying to find the facets in her smooth skin. Without even thinking about it, I reached out with one finger to stroke the back of her hand, awed again by the satin-smooth texture, cool like stone. I felt her eyes on me and I looked up, my finger frozen.

Her eyes were peaceful, and she was smiling.

"I don't scare you?"

"No more than usual."

She smiled wider. Her teeth flashed in the sun.

I inched closer again, stretched out my whole hand to trace the shape of her forearm with my fingertips. I saw that my fingers were trembling. Her eyes closed again.

"Do you mind?" I asked.

"No," she said without opening her eyes. "You can't imagine how that feels.”

I lightly trailed my hand over the delicate structure of her arm, followed the faint pattern of bluish veins inside the crease at her elbow. With my other hand, I reached to turn her hand over. Realizing what I wished, she flipped her palm up in one of those blindingly fast, disconcerting movements. It startled me; my fingers froze on her arm for a brief second.

"Sorry," she murmured. I looked up in time to see her golden eyes close again. "It's too easy to be myself with you.

I lifted her hand, turning it this way and that as I watched the sun shimmer across her palm. I held it closer to my face, trying again to find the facets.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” she whispered. She was watching me again, her eyes as light as I’d ever seen them. Pale honey. “It’s still so strange for me, not knowing.”

"You know, the rest of us feel that way all the time."

“It’s a hard life,” she said, a half-hearted attempt to sound sarcastic. “But you’re just avoiding the question.”

"I was wishing I could know what _you_ were thinking..." I hesitated.

"And?"

"I was wishing that I could believe that you were real. And I was wishing that I wasn't afraid."

"I don't want you to be afraid." Her voice was just a soft murmur. I heard what she couldn't truthfully say, that I didn't need to be afraid, that there was nothing to fear.

"Well, that's not exactly the fear I meant, though that's certainly something to think about."

So quickly that I missed the movement, she was half sitting, propped up on her right arm, her left palm still in my hands. Her angel's face was only a few inches from mine. I might have - should have - flinched away from her unexpected closeness, but I was unable to move.

"What are you afraid of, then?" she whispered intently.

But I couldn't answer. As I had just that once before, I smelled her sweet, cool breath in my face. It was unlike anything else. Instinctively, unthinkingly, I leaned closer, inhaling.

And she was gone, her hand ripped from mine so fast it stung. In the time it took my eyes to focus, she was twenty feet away, standing at the edge of the small meadow, in the deep shade of a huge fir tree. She stared at me, her eyes dark in the shadows, her expression unreadable.

“Edythe. I’m… sorry.” My voice was just a whisper, but I knew she could hear me.

"Give me a moment," she called, just loud enough for my less sensitive ears. I sat very still.

After ten incredibly long seconds, she walked back, slowly for her. She stopped when she was still several feet away and sank gracefully to the ground, crossing her legs underneath her. Her eyes never left mine. She took two deep breaths, then smiled apologetically.

"I am so very sorry." She hesitated. "Would you understand what I meant if I said I was only human?"

I nodded once, not quite able to smile at her joke. Adrenaline pushed through my system as I realized what had almost happened. One stupid, unconscious movement almost ruined everything. Her smile turned mocking.

"I'm the world's best predator, aren't I? Everything about me invites you in - my voice, my face, even my smell. As if I need any of that!"

Unexpectedly, she was on her feet, bounding away, instantly out of sight, only to appear beneath the same tree as before, having circled the meadow in half a second.

"As if you could outrun me," she laughed bitterly.

She reached up with one hand and, with a deafening crack, effortlessly ripped a two-foot-thick branch from the trunk of the spruce. She balanced it in that hand for a moment, and then threw it with blinding speed, shattering it against another huge tree, which shook and trembled at the blow.

Before I even had time to shy away from the detonation, before the tree could even fall to the ground, she was right in front of me again, just two feet away, still as a sculpture.

“As if you could fight me off.” Behind her, the sound of the tree crashing to the earth echoed through the forest.

I sat without moving, more frightened of her than I had ever been. I'd never seen her so completely freed of that carefully cultivated facade. She'd never been less human... or more beautiful. Face ashen, eyes wide, I sat like a bird locked in the eyes of a snake.

Her lovely eyes seem to glow with rash excitement. Then, as the seconds passed, they dimmed. Her expression slowly folded into a mask of ancient sadness.

"Don't be afraid," she murmured, her velvet voice unintentionally seductive. "I promise..." She hesitated. "I swear not to hurt you." She seemed like she was trying to convince herself just as much as she was trying to convince me.

"Don't be afraid," she repeated as she stepped closer, with exaggerated slowness. She sat, still with deliberately unhurried movements, till our faces were on the same level, just a foot apart.

"Please forgive me," she said formally. "I can control myself. You caught me off guard. But I'm on my best behavior now."

She waited, but I still couldn't speak.

"I'm not thirsty today, honestly." She winked.

At that, I had to laugh, though the sound was shaky and breathless.

"Are you alright?" she asked tenderly, reaching out slowly, carefully, to place her marble hand back in mine.

I looked at her smooth, cold hand, and then at her eyes. They were soft, repentant, but I could see some of the sadness still in them. I smiled as widely as I could, but it didn’t feel like much. Her answering smile was dazzling.

"So where were we, before I behaved so rudely?"

"I honestly can't remember."

She smiled, but her face was ashamed. “I think we were talking about why you were afraid, besides the obvious reason.”

"Oh, right." How apropos.

"Well?"

I looked down at her hand and traced aimlessly across her smooth, iridescent palm. The seconds ticked by.

"How easily frustrated I am," she sighed. “Although ‘temper tantrum’ might be a better phrase. I truly am sorry.” I looked into her eyes, abruptly grasping that this was every bit as new to her as it was to me. As many years of unfathomable experience as she had, this was hard for her, too. I took courage from that thought.

"I was afraid... because, for, well, obvious reasons, I can't stay with you, right? And I'm afraid that I'd like that, much more than I should." I looked down at her hands as I spoke. It was difficult for me to say this aloud.

"Yes," she agreed slowly. "That is something to be afraid of, indeed. Wanting to be with me. That's really not in your best interest."

I frowned.

"I should have left long ago," she sighed. "I should leave now. But I don't know if I can."

"I don't want you to leave," I mumbled pathetically, staring down again.

"Which is exactly why I should. But don't worry. I'm essentially a selfish creature. I crave your company too much to do what I should."

“Good!”

She glared, carefully extricating her hands from mine and then folding them across her chest. Her voice was harsher when she spoke again.

“You should never forget that it’s not only your company I crave. Never forget that I am more dangerous to you than I am to anyone else.” She stared unseeingly into the forest.

I thought for a moment.

"I don't think I understand exactly what you mean - by that last part anyway," I said.

She looked back and smiled at me, her unpredictable mood shifting yet again.

"How do I explain?" she mused. "And without frightening you again... hmm." Without seeming to think about it, she placed her hand back in mine; I held it tightly in both of mine. She looked at our hands.

“That’s amazingly pleasant, the warmth.”

A moment passed while she seemed to be arranging her thoughts

"You know how everyone enjoys different flavors?" she began. "Some people love chocolate ice cream, others prefer strawberry?"

I nodded.

"Sorry about the food analogy - I couldn't think of another way to explain."

“It’s alright, it makes as much sense as anything else,” I said with a grin. She smiled back, though hers seemed apprehensive.

"You see, every person smells different, has a different essence. If you locked an alcoholic in a room full of stale beer, she'd drink it. But she could resist, if she wished to, if she were a recovering alcoholic. Now let's say you placed in that room a glass of hundred-year-old brandy, the rarest, finest cognac - and filled the room with its warm aroma - how do you think our alcoholic would fare then?”

We sat silently, looking into each other's eyes - trying to read each other's thoughts.

I broke the silence first. I wanted to avoid as much tension as I could.

“That bad, huh?”She smiled swiftly, seeming to appreciate my effort. “Actually, I was thinking it might not be a strong enough comparison. Could be too easy to turn down the brandy.”

"Does that happen often?" I asked.

She looked across the treetops, thinking through her response.

"I spoke to my siblings about it." She still stared into the distance. "Or at least I _tried_ to. Alice has been able to avoid any situation _that_ extreme, and Rosalie simply refused to discuss the matter.” She shook her head, probably realizing how her family dynamics were still incomprehensible to me.

“To Jasper, though, every one of you is much the same. He's the most recent to join our diet, so to speak. It's a struggle for him to abstain at all. He hasn't had time to grow sensitive to the differences in smell, in flavor." She glanced swiftly at me. "Sorry.”

"I don't mind. Please don't worry about offending me, or frightening me, or whichever. That's the way you think. I can understand, or I can try to at least. Just explain however you can."

She took a deep breath and gazed at the sky again.

"So Jasper wasn't sure if he'd ever come across someone who was as" - she hesitated, looking for the right word - "appealing as you are to me. Which makes me think not. Emmett has been on the wagon longer, in that regard, and he understood what I meant. He says twice, for him, once stronger than the other."

"And for you?"

"Never."

The word hung there for a moment in the warm breeze.

"What did Emmett do?" I asked to break the silence.

It was the wrong question to ask. She cringed, her hand clenched into a fist inside mine. I waited, but she wasn't going to answer.

“Sorry, that was a dumb question.”

She lifted her eyes; her expression was wistful, pleading.

"Even the strongest of us fall off the wagon, don't we?"

"What are you asking? My permission?" My voice was sharper than I'd intended. I tried to make my tone kinder – I only could guess what this honesty must cost her. "I mean, is there no hope, then?" Strange, how calmly I could discuss my own death. I'd thought if it was a guarantee it would be over by now, but maybe I didn't fully grasp how much effort this was costing Edythe.

"No, no!" Her eyes flew wide in shock. "Of course there's hope! I mean, of course, I won't..." She left the sentence hanging. "It's different for us. Emmett... these were strangers he happened across. It was a long time ago, and he wasn't as... practiced, as careful, as he is now."

She fell silent and watched me intently as I thought it through.

"So if we'd met... like, in a dark alley or something..." I trailed off.

"It took everything I had not to jump up in the middle of that class and -" She stopped abruptly, looking away. "When you walked past me, I could have ruined everything Carlisle has built for us, right then and there. I was…too close to ruining it all."

She stared at me grimly, both of us remembering.

"You must have thought I was possessed."

"Something like that. I didn’t understand how you could hate me so quickly."

"To me, it was like you were some kind of demon, summoned straight from my own personal hell to ruin me. The fragrance coming off your skin... I thought it would make me deranged that first day. In that one hour, I thought of a hundred different ways to lure you from the room with me, to get you alone. And I fought them each back, thinking of my family, what it would do to them. I had to run out, to get away before I could speak the words that would make you follow..."

She looked up then, her golden eyes scorching from under her lashes, hypnotic and deadly.

“You would have come,” she promised.

The honesty was terrifying. I tried to speak calmly. "Undoubtedly."

She frowned at our hands. “And then, as I tried to rearrange my schedule in a pointless attempt to avoid you, there you were—in that close, warm little room, the scent was maddening. I so very nearly took you then. There was only one other frail human there—so easily dealt with.”

I shivered in the warm sun, seeing my memories anew through her eyes, only now grasping the danger. Poor Ms. Cope; I shivered again at how close I'd come to being inadvertently responsible for her death.

"But I resisted. I don't know how. I forced myself not to wait for you, not to follow you from school. It was easier outside when I couldn't smell you anymore, to think clearly, to make the right decision. I left the others near home - I was too ashamed to tell them how weak I was, they only knew something was very wrong - and then I went straight to Carlisle, at the hospital, to tell him I was leaving."

I stared in surprise.

"I traded cars with him - he had a full tank of gas and I didn't want to stop. I didn't dare to go home, to face Esme. She wouldn't have let me go without a scene. She would have tried to convince me that it wasn't necessary, and it would have been disastrous if I believed her.

"I made it to Alaska that morning, but I didn’t have any idea what I would do. I spent two days there, with some old acquaintances... but I was homesick. I hated knowing I'd upset Esme and the rest of my family. In the pure air of the mountains, it was hard to believe you were so irresistible. I convinced myself it was weak to run away. I'd dealt with temptation before, not of this magnitude, not even close, but I was strong. Who were you, an insignificant little girl" -she grinned suddenly - "to chase me from the place I wanted to be? So I came back..." She stared off into space.

I couldn't speak.

"I took precautions, hunting, feeding more than usual before seeing you again. I convinced myself I could treat you like any other human. Pure arrogance.

"It was unquestionably a complication that I couldn't simply read your thoughts to know what your reaction was to me. I wasn't used to having to go to such circuitous measures, listening to your words in Jessica's mind... her mind isn't very original, and it was annoying to have to stoop to that. And then I couldn't know if you really meant what you said. It was all extremely irritating." She frowned at the memory.

"I wanted you to forget my behavior that first day, if possible, so I tried to talk with you like I would with any person. I was eager actually, hoping to decipher some of your thoughts. But I was the one who forgot, who was distracted from what I was supposed to be doing. You were too interesting, I found myself caught up in your expressions... and every now and then you would stir the air with your hand or your hair, and the scent would stun me again...

"Of course, that entire plan went to waste when you were nearly crushed to death in front of my eyes. I've lived through a lot, Bella, but that was one of the most terrifying moments. I came up with a perfectly good excuse for why I acted - because if I hadn't saved you, if your blood had been spilled there in front of me, I don't think I could have stopped myself from exposing us for what we are. But I only thought of that excuse later. At the time, all I could think was, 'Not her.'"

She closed her eyes, lost in her agonized confession. I listened, more eager than rational. Common sense told me I should be terrified. Instead, I was relieved to finally understand her half of the story. And I was filled with compassion for her suffering, even now, as she confessed her craving to take my life.

I finally was able to speak, though my voice was faint. "In the hospital?"

Her eyes flashed up to mine. "I was appalled. I couldn't believe I had put us in danger, after all, put myself in your power - you of all people. I thought I might leave again, but I couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t let slip what really happened. I believed you but,” she gestured vaguely to her forehead, “I couldn’t be certain; I had no proof. As if I needed another motive to kill you." We both flinched as that word slipped out. "But it had the opposite effect," she continued quickly. "I fought with Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper when they suggested that now was the time... the worst fight we've ever had. Carlisle sided with me, and Alice." She flinched when she said her name. I couldn't imagine why. "Esme told me to do whatever I had to stay.

"All that next day I eavesdropped on the minds of everyone you spoke to, shocked that you kept your word. I didn't understand you at all. But I knew that I couldn't become more involved with you. I did my very best to stay as far from you as possible. And every day the perfume of your skin, your breath, your hair... it hit me as hard as the very first day."

She met my eyes again, and hers were oddly tender.

"And for all that," she continued, "I'd have fared better if I had exposed us all at that first moment, than if now, here - with no witnesses and nothing to stop me - I were to hurt you."

I was human enough to have to ask. "Why?"

"Isabella." She pronounced my full name carefully, then playfully ruffled my hair with her free hand. A shock ran through my body at the casual touch. "Bella, I couldn't live with myself if I ever hurt you. You don't know how it's tortured me." She looked down, ashamed again. "The thought of you, still, white, cold... to never see you blush scarlet again, to never see that flash of intuition in your eyes when you see through my pretenses... I couldn’t bear it.” She lifted her glorious, agonized eyes to mine. “You are the most important thing to me now. The most important thing to me ever.”

My head was spinning at the rapid change in direction our conversation had taken. She waited, and even though I looked down to study our hands, I knew her golden eyes were on me.

"You already know how I feel, of course," I finally said. "I'm here... which, roughly translated, means I would rather die than stay away from you." I frowned. "I'm an idiot."

“You are an idiot,” she agreed with a laugh, and I laughed with her. This whole situation was idiocy—and impossibility and magic.

"And so the lion fell in love with the lamb," she murmured. I looked away, hiding my eyes as I thrilled to the word.

I tried to cover my reaction. “What a stupid lamb.”

"What a sick, masochistic lion." She stared into the shadowy forest for a long moment, and I wondered where her thoughts had taken her.

"Why...?" I began, and then paused, not sure how to continue.

She looked at me and smiled; sunlight shimmered off her face, her teeth. “Yes?”

"Tell me why you ran from me before."

Her smile faded. "You know why."

"No, I mean, exactly what did I do wrong? I need to learn how to make this easier for you, so I better start learning what I shouldn't do. This, for example" - I stroked the back of her hand - "seems to be all right."

"You didn't do anything wrong, Bella. It was my fault."

"But I want to help if I can."

"Well..." She contemplated for a moment. "It was just how close you were. Most humans instinctively shy away from us, are repelled by our alienness... I wasn't expecting you to come so near. Particularly your throat." She stopped short, looking to see if she'd upset me.

"Okay, then," I said casually, trying to alleviate the suddenly tense atmosphere. I tucked my chin. "No throat exposure."

It worked; she laughed. "No, really, it was more the surprise than anything else."

She raised her free hand and placed it gently on the side of my neck. I held very still, recognizing that the chill of her touch was supposed to be a natural warning, and yet I couldn’t feel any of that. I did feel something _else,_ however...

"You see," she said. "Perfectly fine."

My blood was racing, and I wished I could slow it, sensing that this must make everything so much more difficult - the thudding of my pulse in my veins. I was certain she could hear it, if not feel it in her hand.

"The blush on your cheeks is lovely," she murmured. She gently freed her other hand. My hands fell limply into my lap. Softly she brushed my cheek, then held my face between her marble hands.

"Be very still," she whispered, as if I wasn't already frozen.

Abruptly, but very gently, she suddenly leaned into me, resting her cheek against my chest—listening to my heart. I could feel the ice of her skin through my thin shirt. With deliberate slowness her hands moved to my shoulders and her arms wrapped around my neck, holding me tight against her. I listened to the sound of her careful, even breathing, which seemed to be keeping time with my heartbeats. One breath in for every three beats, one breath out for another three.

I don't know how long we sat without moving. It could have been hours. Eventually, the throb of my pulse quieted, but she didn't move or speak again as she held me. I knew at any moment it could be too much, and my life could end - so quickly that I might not even notice. And I still wasn’t afraid. I couldn't think of anything, except that she was touching me.

And then, too soon, she unwrapped her arms from around my neck and leaned away. Her eyes were peaceful again.

"It won't be so hard again," she said with satisfaction.

"Was that very hard for you?"

"Not nearly as bad as I imagined it would be. And you?"

"No, it wasn't bad... for me."

She smiled at my inflection. "You know what I mean."

I smiled.

"Here." She took my hand and placed it against her cheek. "Do you feel how warm it is?"

And it was almost warm, her usually icy skin. But I barely noticed, because I was touching her face, something I'd dreamed of constantly since the first day I'd seen her.

"Don't move," I whispered.

No one could be still like Edythe. She closed her eyes and became as immobile as stone, a statue under my hand.

I moved even more slowly than she had, careful not to make one unexpected move. I stroked her cheek, let my fingertips graze across her lavender eyelids, the shadows in the hollows under her eyes. I traced the shape of her straight nose, and then, so carefully, her perfect lips. Her lips parted and I could feel her cool breath on my fingertips. I wanted to lean in, to inhale her scent, but I knew that might be too much. If she could control herself, so could I—if only on a much smaller scale.

  
The wonder of this moment was not lost on me. More unbelievable than the existence of the supernatural, more unbelievable than Edythe’s explanation of how she simultaneously saved and endangered my life, was the fact that she was here, that she wanted me with her. And I was touching her. It was more than I ever imagined could be possible when I saw her that first day in the cafeteria. I expected to pine from a distance for the duration of my time in Forks, and I would have been alright with that reality. Instead, we were here, together, my hands cupping her face.

I tried to move in slow motion so that she could guess everything I would do before I did it. I let my palms slide down the sides of her slender neck, let them rest on her shoulders while my thumbs followed the impossibly fragile curve of her collarbones. My hands yearned to move…lower, but that was several steps too far. So instead I let one remain on her shoulder and brought the other back behind her neck to run my fingers through the ends of her hair.   
  
Her breathing hitched slightly; I probably wouldn’t have noticed if it hadn’t been so consistent these past silent minutes. But it signaled the end of my time. I leaned back and brought my hands back to myself, though I let one linger on her wrist.

She opened her eyes, which were full of tension. Not the same tension that had clouded the majority of the morning but one that tightened the muscles in the pit of my stomach and sent my pulse hammering through my veins again.

"I wish," she whispered, "I wish you could feel the... complexity... the confusion... I feel. That you could understand."

She raised her hand to my face, then ran her fingers quickly through my hair.

"Tell me."

"I don't think I can. I've told you, on the one hand, the hunger - the thirst - that, deplorable creature that I am, I feel for you. And I think you can understand that, to an extent. Though" - she half-smiled - "as you are still a living breathing person, you probably can't empathize completely.

"But..." Her fingers touched my lips lightly, making me shiver again. "There are other hungers. Hungers I don't even understand, that are foreign to me."

"I may understand that better than you think."

"I'm not used to feeling so human. Is it always like this?"

"For me?" I paused. "No, never. Not until now."

She gently grabbed both of my hands and held them between hers. I almost didn’t notice the cold anymore.

"I don't know how to be close to you," she admitted. "I don't know if I can."

I leaned forward very slowly until my forehead was touching hers.

"This is enough," I sighed, closing my eyes. Being with her in any capacity was more than enough.

We sat like that for a moment, and then she put her arms around me and pulled me closer, pressing her face into my hair.

"You're better at this than you give yourself credit for," I noted.

"I have human instincts - they may be buried deep, but they're there."

She held me for what could have been an eternity; I wondered if she could be as unwilling to move as I was. But I could see the light was fading, the shadows of the forest beginning to touch us, and I sighed.

"You have to go."

"I thought you couldn't read my mind."

"It's getting clearer." I could hear a smile in her voice.

She took my shoulders and I looked into her face, sudden excitement flaring in her eyes.

"Can I show you something?" she asked.

"Show me what?"

She grinned. “How about a faster way back to the truck?”

I looked at her warily.

“Don’t you want to see how I travel in the forest?” she pressed. “I promise it’s safe.”

"You don’t turn into a bat?"

She laughed, louder than I'd ever heard. "Like I haven't heard that one before!"

"Right, I'm sure you get that all the time."

"Come on, coward, climb on my back."

I waited to see if she was kidding, but, apparently, she meant it. She smiled as she read my hesitation, and reached for me. My heart reacted; even though she couldn't hear my thoughts, my pulse always gave me away. She proceeded to sling me onto her back, with very little effort on my part, when in place, clamping my legs and arms so tightly around her that it would choke a normal person. It was like clinging to a stone.

"I'm a bit heavier than your average backpack," I warned.

"Hah!" she snorted. I could almost hear her eyes rolling. I'd never seen her in such high spirits before.

Suddenly she grabbed my hand and pressed my palm to her face. She inhaled deeply.

"Easier all the time," she muttered.

And then she was running.

I may have feared death before in her presence, but it was nothing compared to how I felt now.

She sped through the dark, thick underbrush of the forest as fast as a bullet. There was no sound, no evidence that her feet touched the earth. Her breathing never changed, never indicated any effort. But the trees flew by at deadly speeds, always missing us by inches.

I was too terrified to close my eyes, though the cool forest air whipped against my face and burned them. I felt as if I were stupidly sticking my head out the window of an airplane in flight.

Then it was over. We’d hiked hours this morning to reach Edythe’s meadow, and now, in a matter of minutes—not even minutes, seconds—we were back to the truck.

"Exhilarating, isn't it?" Her voice was high, excited.

She stood motionless, waiting for me to climb down. I tried, but my muscles wouldn't respond. My arms and legs stayed locked around her while my head spun uncomfortably.

"Bella?" she asked, anxious now.

"I think I need to lie down," I gasped.

"Oh, sorry." She waited for me, but I still couldn't move.

"I think I need help," I admitted.

She laughed quietly, and gently unloosened my stranglehold on her neck. Then everything seemed to come undone at the same time, and I half-fell off her, but she spun around and caught me by the arm, helping me down onto the springy ferns.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

I couldn't be sure how I felt when my head was spinning so crazily. "Dizzy, I think."

"Put your head between your knees."

I tried that, and it helped a little. I breathed in and out slowly, keeping my head very still. I felt her sitting beside me. There was a hollow ringing sound in my ears.

"I guess that wasn't the best idea," she mused.

I tried to be positive, but my voice was weak. "No, it was very interesting."

"Hah! You're as white as a ghost - no, you're as white as me!"

"I think I should have closed my eyes."

"Remember that next time."

"Next time!" I groaned 

She laughed, her mood still radiant.

"Show-off," I muttered.

"Open your eyes, Bella," she said quietly.

I lifted my head and she was right there, her face so close to mine. Her beauty stunned my mind - it was too much, an excess I couldn't grow accustomed to.

"I was thinking, while I was running..."

"About not hitting the trees, I hope."

"Bella," she chuckled. "Running is second nature to me, it's not something I have to think about."

"Show-off," I muttered again.

She smiled. "No, I was thinking there was something I wanted to try." And she took my face in her hands.

I couldn't breathe.

She hesitated - not in the normal way, the human way. Not to gauge my reaction- but a test, to see she was still in control of herself.

And then her cold, marble lips pressed very softly against mine.

For one short instant, we were connected, both completely still, in absolute perfection. But neither of us was prepared for my response.

Blood boiled under my skin, burned in my lips. My breath came in a wild gasp. Completely disconnected from my brain, my fingers tangled in her hair, locking her face to mine. In my shock I had no semblance of logic, no warnings going off to remind me to be careful, or gentle. My lips opened as I breathed in her scent.

Immediately, she turned to unresponsive stone beneath my lips. Her hands gently, but forcibly, pushed my face back. I opened my eyes and saw her expression.

"Oops," I breathed.

"That's an understatement."

Her eyes were wild, jaw clenched in acute restraint. Yet she didn't seem inclined to move away from me, she held my face just inches from hers.

"I'm sorry, I can-" I tried to disengage myself, to give her some room, but she didn’t release me.

"No, it's tolerable. Wait a moment, please." Her voice was polite, controlled.

I kept my eyes on hers, watched as the excitement in them faded and gentled.

She grinned, obviously pleased with herself. “There.”

"Tolerable?" I asked.

She laughed. “I’m stronger than I thought. It’s nice to know.”

"I wish I could say the same. I'm sorry."

"You are only human, after all."

“Ha. Ha.”

She freed her hair from my fingers, and then she was on her feet in one of her lithe, nearly invisible movements. She held out her hand, an unexpected gesture. I was still so used to our standard of careful non-contact. I took her icy hand, needing the support more than I thought. My balance had not yet returned.

"Are you still faint from the run? Or was it my kissing expertise?" How lighthearted, how human she seemed as she laughed now, completely carefree. She was a new Edythe, different than the one I’d known, and I was even more in love with her. It would cause me physical pain to be separated from her now.

"I can't be sure, I'm still woozy," I managed to respond. "I think it's some of both, though."

"Maybe you should let me drive."

"Are you insane?" I protested.

"I can drive better than you on your best day," she teased. "You have much slower reflexes."

"I'm sure that's true, but I don't think my nerves, or my truck, could take it."

"Some trust, please, Bella."

My hand was in my pocket, curled tightly around the key. I pursed my lips, deliberated, then shook my head with a tight grin.

"Nope. Not a chance."

She raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

I started to step around her, heading for the driver's side. She might have let me pass if I hadn't wobbled slightly. Then again, probably not. Her arm created an inescapable snare around my waist.

"Bella, I've already expended a great deal of personal effort at this point to keep you alive. I'm not about to let you behind the wheel of a vehicle when you can't even walk straight. Besides, friends don't let friends drive drunk.”

"Drunk?" I objected.

"You're intoxicated by my very presence." She was grinning that playful smirk again.

"I can't argue with that," I sighed. There was no way around it; I couldn't resist her in anything. I held the key high and dropped it, watching her hand flash like lightning to catch it soundlessly. "Take it easy - my truck is a senior citizen."

"Very sensible," she approved.

“So you’re not affected at all? By my presence?”

She turned back and reached for my hand, holding it to her face again. She leaned into my palm, her eyes sliding closed. She took a slow, deep breath.

“Regardless…,” she murmured. Her eyes flashed open and she grinned. “I have better reflexes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Thank you all for your patience. I've been trying to keep where I'm updating and where I've edited up to a few chapters apart but I've been inching closer and closer together through this last batch of writer's block, but it's not fair to keep you waiting so long. The chapter after this was what had me stuck, the Cullens chapter should not take nearly as long so hopefully, we will be back to a regular schedule soon. Thank you all so much!


	15. MIND OVER MATTER

Her driving was just fine, I had to admit, when she kept the speed reasonable. Like so many things, it seemed to be effortless for her. She barely looked at the road, yet the truck was always perfectly centered in the lane. She drove one-handed, holding my hand on the seat. Sometimes she gazed into the setting sun, which glittered off her skin in ruby-tinged shimmers. Sometimes she glanced at me—stared into my eyes or looked down at our hands twined together.

She had turned the radio to an oldies station and sang along with a song I'd never heard. She knew every line.

"You like fifties music?" I asked.

"Music in the fifties was good. One of the only good things about the fifties, Much better music than the sixties, or the seventies, ugh!" She shuddered. "The eighties turned back around, that was nice.”

“Are you ever going to tell me how old you are?”

I wondered if my question would upset her buoyant mood, but she just smiled.

“Does it matter very much?”

"No, I'm just curious. There's nothing like a mystery to keep you up at night."

“I wonder if it will upset you,” she said to herself. She stared straight into the sun; minutes passed.

"Try me," I finally said.

She looked into my eyes, seeming to forget the road completely for a while. Whatever she saw must have encouraged her. She turned to face the last blood-red rays of the dying sun and sighed.

“I was born in Chicago in 1901.” She paused and glanced at me from the corner of her eye. My face was carefully arranged, unsurprised, patient for the rest. She smiled slightly and continued. "Carlisle found me in a hospital in the summer of 1918. I was seventeen, and dying of Spanish influenza."

She heard my intake of breath, though it was barely audible to my own ears. She looked down into my eyes again.

"I don't remember it well - it was a very long time ago, and human memories fade." She seemed lost in thought for a minute, but before I could prompt her, she went on. "I do remember how it felt, though, when Carlisle saved me. It's not an easy thing, not something you could forget."

"Your parents?"

"They had already died from the disease. I was alone. That was why he chose me. In all the chaos of the epidemic, no one would ever realize I was gone."

"How did he... save you?"

I had admitted to her just how badly I wanted to stay with her forever; her kind of forever. It was stronger than anything I’d felt before, even if it could never happen. Now it seemed there might be a possibility after all. A few seconds passed, and when she spoke again she seemed to be choosing her words very carefully.

"It was difficult. Not many of us have the restraint necessary to accomplish it. But Carlisle has always been the most humane, the most compassionate of us... I don't think you could find his equal throughout all of history." She paused. "For me, it was merely very, very painful."

I could tell from the set of her lips, she would say no more on this subject. I suppressed my curiosity, though it was far from idle. There were many things I needed to think through on this particular issue, things that were only beginning to occur to me. No doubt her quick mind had already comprehended what train of thought I was following.

Her soft voice interrupted my thoughts. "He acted from loneliness. That's usually the reason behind the choice. I was the first in Carlisle's family, though he found Esme soon after. She fell from a cliff. They brought her straight to the hospital morgue, but, somehow, her heart was still beating."

"So you must be dying, then, to become..." We never said the word, and I couldn't frame it now.

"No, that's just Carlisle. He would never do that to someone who had another choice." The respect in her voice was profound whenever she spoke of her adoptive mother. "She says it’s easier, though, if the blood is weak." She looked at the now-dark road, and I could feel the subject closing again.

"And Emmett and Rosalie?"

"Carlisle brought Rosalie to our family next. Those were a difficult few years. Complicated. For me, mostly annoying." She looked at me and rolled her eyes. "It was only two years later that she found Emmett. She was hunting - we were in Appalachia at the time - and found a bear about to finish him off. She carried him back to Carlisle, more than a hundred miles, afraid she wouldn't be able to do it herself. I'm only beginning to guess how difficult that journey was for her." She threw a glance in my direction, and raised our hands, still folded together, to brush my cheek with the back of her hand.

"But she made it."

"Yes," she murmured. "She saw something in his face that made her strong enough. And they've been together ever since. Sometimes they live separately from us, as a married couple. But the younger we pretend to be, the longer we can stay in any given place. Forks was perfect, so we all enrolled in high school." She laughed. "I suppose we'll have to go to their wedding in a few years, again."

"Alice and Jasper?"

"Those two are a very special case. They both made the change to our way of life, our diet, with no outside guidance. Or, Alice did, and she helped Jasper. He belonged to another... family, a very different kind of family. He became depressed, and he wandered on his own. Alice found him. Like me, she has certain gifts above and beyond the norm for our kind."

"Really?" I interrupted, fascinated. "But you said you were the only one who could hear people's thoughts."

"Oh, I am. She knows other things. She sees things - things that might happen, things that are coming. But it's very subjective. The future isn't set in stone. Things change."

Her jaw set when she said that, and her eyes darted to my face and away so quickly that I wasn’t sure if I’d only imagined it.

"What kinds of things does she see?"

"She saw Jasper and knew that he was looking for her before he knew it himself. She saw Carlisle and our family, and they came together to find us. She's most sensitive to non-humans. She always sees, for example, when another group of our kind is coming near. And any threat they may pose."

"Are there a lot of... your kind?" I was surprised. How many of them could walk among us undetected?

"No, not many. But most won't settle in any one place. Only those like us, who've given up hunting you people" - a sly glance in my direction - "can live together with humans for any length of time. We've only found one other family like ours, in a small village in Alaska. We lived together for a time, but there were so many of us that we became too noticeable. Those of us who live... differently tend to band together."

"And the others?"

"Nomads, for the most part. We've all lived that way at times. It gets tedious, like anything else. But we run across the others now and then, because most of us prefer the North."

"Why is that?"

We were parked in front of my house now, and she'd turned off the truck. It was very quiet and dark; there was no moon. The porch light was off so I knew my father wasn't home yet.

"Did you have your eyes open this afternoon?" she teased. "Do you think I could walk down the street in the sunlight without causing traffic accidents? There's a reason why we chose the Olympic Peninsula, one of the most sunless places in the world. It's nice to be able to go outside in the day. You wouldn't believe how tired you can get of nighttime in eighty-odd years."

"So that's where the legends came from?"

"Probably."

"And Alice came from another family, like Jasper?"

"No, and that is a mystery. Alice doesn't remember her human life at all. And she doesn't know who created her. She awoke alone. Whoever made her walked away, and none of us understand why, or how, they could. If she hadn't had that other sense, if she hadn't seen Jasper and Carlisle and known that she would someday be part of our family, she probably would have turned into a total savage."

There was so much to think through, so much I still wanted to ask. But, to my great embarrassment, my stomach growled. I'd been so intrigued; I hadn't even noticed I was hungry. I realized now that I was ravenous.

"I'm sorry, I'm keeping you from dinner."

"I'm fine, really."

"I've never spent much time around anyone who eats food. I forget."

"I want to stay with you." It was easier to say in the darkness, knowing as I spoke how my voice would betray me, my hopeless addiction to her.

"Can't I come in?" she asked.

“Would you like to?” I couldn’t picture it, a goddess sitting in my dad’s shabby kitchen chair. “Do I have to invite you first, is that one real?”

She laughed. “No that one’s not real either, I’m simply trying to be polite.”

“Well, good news, you’re succeeding. Let’s go.”

I climbed out of the truck and she was already there; then she flitted ahead and disappeared. The lights turned on inside.

She met me at the door. It was so surreal to see her inside my house, framed by the boring physical details of my humdrum life.

“Did I leave that unlocked?” I wondered.

“No, I used the key from under the eave.”

I hadn’t thought I’d used that key in front of her. I remembered how she’d found my truck key, and shrugged.

“You’re hungry, right?” She led the way as if she’d been here a million times before. She turned on the kitchen light and then sat in the same chair I’d just tried to picture her in. I stood there for a moment, trying to wrap my mind around her presence here in the middle of mundania.

“Eat something, Bella.”

I nodded and turned to scavenge. There was lasagna left over from last night. I put a square on a plate and set it in the microwave. It revolved, filling the kitchen with the smell of tomatoes and oregano. My stomach growled again.

“Hmm,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“I’m going to have to do a better job in the future.”

I laughed. “What could you possibly do better than you already do?”

“Remember that you’re human. I should have, I don’t know, packed a picnic or something today.”

The microwave dinged and I pulled the plate out, then set it down quickly when it burned my hand.

“Don’t worry about it.”

I found a fork and started eating. The first bite scalded my mouth, but I kept chewing.

“Does that taste good?” she asked.

I swallowed. “I’m not sure. I think I just burned my taste buds off. It tasted good yesterday.”

She didn’t look convinced.

“Do you ever miss food? Ice cream? Peanut butter?”

She shook her head. “I hardly remember food. I couldn’t even tell you what my favorites were. It doesn’t smell… edible now.”

“That’s kind of sad.”

“It’s not such a huge sacrifice.” She said it sadly, like there were other things on her mind, sacrifices that were huge.

I used the dishtowel as a hot pad and carried the plate to the table so I could sit by her.

“Do you miss other parts about being human?”

She thought about that for a second. “I’d have to remember being human to miss it. So not particularly. But there are things I think I’d like. I suppose you could say things I’m jealous of.”

“Like what?”

“Sleep is one. Never-ending consciousness got old _very_ quickly. I think I’d enjoy temporary oblivion. It looks interesting.”

I ate a few bites, thinking about that. “Sounds hard. What do you do all night?”

She hesitated, then pursed her lips. “Do you mean in general?”

“No, you don’t have to be general. Like, what are you going to do tonight after you leave?”

It was the wrong question. She was going to have to leave. It didn’t matter how short the separation was—I dreaded it.

She didn’t seem to like the question, either, at first I thought for the same reason. But then her eyes flashed to my face and away, like she was uncomfortable.

“What?”

She made a face. “Do you want a pleasant lie or a possibly disturbing truth?”

“The truth?” I said it too quickly, my voice cracking in doubt. What could she still be afraid to reveal?

She sighed. “I’ll likely come back here after you and your father are asleep. It’s sort of my routine lately.”

I blinked. Then I blinked again.

“I’m sorry- what?” I could barely form any coherent thoughts. “You come _here_?”

“Almost every night.”

“Okay, I might have to take back what I said about politeness.” I tried to keep my tone light, but my head was still spinning. I had no idea how I actually sounded.

Apparently, it came across far from joking, as Edythe’s expression quickly shifted to chagrin. "Are you very angry with me?"

Was I? I didn’t feel angry, though part of me was aware I probably should. The first word that came to mind was “flattered,” but that didn’t seem entirely right either.

“You could have asked first, I would have said yes.” There was no doubt about that. “What do you even do here?”

“Well, initially I was worried a terrible disaster was going to befall you that I wouldn’t be able to stop if I was away.” Her words were flowing fast like they usually did when she was anxious, but her smile was back. “But you’re also fascinating when you sleep. You talk.”

“Oh, no,” I groaned, heat flooding my face all the way to my hairline. I knew I talked in my sleep, of course; my mother teased me about it. I hadn't thought it was something I needed to worry about here, though. “What have you heard?”

She smiled. “You miss your mother. When it rains, the sound makes you restless. You used to talk about home a lot, but it’s less often now. Once you said, ‘It’s too green.’” She laughed softly, hoping not to offend me again.

“Anything else?” I demanded.

She knew what I was getting at. “You did say my name,” she admitted.

I cringed. “A lot?”

"How much do you mean by 'a lot,' exactly?"

"Oh no!" I hung my head.

She reached for my hand resting on the table and gently squeezed it.

"Don't be self-conscious," she whispered. "If I could dream at all, it would be about you. And I'm not ashamed of it."

I really didn’t mind if she came here, when it came down to it. If nothing else, it proved my obsession wasn’t as one-sided as I feared. It wasn’t like I expected her to follow normal human rules anyway. The rules she’d made for herself seemed like enough.

Then we both heard the sound of tires on the brick driveway, saw the headlights flash through the front windows, down the hall to us.

"Should your father know I'm here?" she asked.

"I'm not sure..." I tried to think it through quickly.

"Another time then..."

And I was alone.

“Edythe?” I whispered.

I heard a quiet laugh, and then nothing else.

My father's key turned in the door.

"Bella?" he called. It had bothered me before; who else would it be? Suddenly he didn't seem so far off base.

"In here." Was my voice too agitated? I took another bite of my lasagna so I could be chewing when he came in. His footsteps sounded so noisy after my day with Edythe.

"Can you get me some of that? I'm bushed." He stepped on the heels of his boots to take them off, holding the back of Edythe’s chair for support.

I took my food with me, scarfing it down as I got his dinner. I filled two glasses with water while his lasagna was heating, and gulped mine, trying to focus on calming down.

Instead, I was thinking about what Edythe had just said: ‘Should your father know that I’m here?’ Which was not the same as ‘Should your father know that I _was_ here?’ in the past tense. So did that mean she hadn’t actually left? I hoped so.

As I set the glass down, I noticed the water trembling and realized my hand was shaking. Charlie sat in the chair, and the contrast between him and its former occupant was comical.

"Thanks," he said as I placed his food on the table.

"How was your day?" I asked. The words were rushed; I was dying to escape to my room.

"Good. The fish were biting... how about you? Did you get everything done that you wanted to?"

"Not really - it was too nice out to stay indoors." I took another big bite.

"It was a nice day," he agreed. What an understatement.

Finished with the last bite of lasagna, I lifted my glass and chugged the remains of my water.

Charlie’s eyebrows furrowed. "In a hurry?"

Why, oh why, did this have to be his night to pay attention?

"Yeah, I'm tired. I'm going to bed early."

"You look kinda keyed up," he noted.

"Do I?" was all I could manage in response. I turned towards the sink, trying to keep my face composed as I scrubbed my plate clean.

"It's Saturday," he mused.

I didn't respond.

"No plans tonight?" he asked suddenly.

"No, Dad, I just want to get some sleep."

"None of the boys in town your type, eh?" He was suspicious but trying to play it cool.

"No, none of the boys are my type." I smiled too wide at my private joke, though I was genuinely grateful for the chance to avoid lying to Charlie.

“None of the girls, either?”

The plate fell out of my hands, clattering against the silverware at the bottom of the sink. I turned to face him, my stomach twisting into a knot so tight I thought I might be physically ill. Of all the things I was worried about dealing with today, this was nowhere on my list.

Charlie seemed confused by my horror. “What, was I not supposed to say anything?”

“I didn’t know you knew!”

“Bells, I might not have been around much these past few years but I _have_ known you your whole life.” He got up from his chair and came towards the sink, slowly reaching behind me to turn off the tap. I was still completely frozen, my head reeling and failing to come up with anything to say. My thoughts felt like static as opposed to any English phrases.

“You know I love you no matter what, right? That’s never gonna change.”

All I could manage was a nod. I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting, but it wasn’t this.

“Come here, kid,” he said as he awkwardly wrapped one arm around my shoulder, pulling me into a strange sideways hug.  
  
“Thank you, Dad,” I whispered. As I inhaled it felt like the clearest breath I had ever taken as if a weight I wasn’t even aware of had been lifted from my chest. 

With a stiff pat on the back, Charlie broke out of the embrace first and made his way back over to his lasagna. The embarrassment of the moment was fully starting to set in, on both sides. With one conversation we practically used up our allotment of emotional vulnerability for the next decade.

I quickly finished washing the dishes and set them hastily in the drying rack. I felt as if there was more I should say, something I should ask, but I couldn’t form the right words. We’d have enough time to have more cringe-inducing conversations about my romantic life at a later date; someone was waiting for me, though I wasn’t entirely certain where she was.

Charlie seemed adamant on prolonging the awkwardness, however. “So if you had plans to go somewhere tonight you could tell me, you know,” he said between bites of lasagna.

“My only plan is to go upstairs, which is where I’m going now.” I tried to go at a reasonably slow pace up the stairs in a feeble attempt to seem tired. He may have been far calmer about my orientation than I expected, but “the vampire I’m in love with is in the house and she has been for several nights now” was not something I wanted to explain to Charlie.

"'Night, honey," he called after me.

"See you in the morning, Dad."

I shut the door loud enough for him to hear and then sprinted on my tiptoes to the window. I threw it open and leaned out into the darkness, but I couldn’t see anything past the small pool of light surrounding the front steps.

"Edythe?" I whispered, feeling completely idiotic. It felt like ages since I had last seen her, with my luck she probably just went home. 

Instead, a quiet, laughing response came from behind me. "Yes?"

I whirled, one hand flying to my mouth in surprise.

She was lying across my bed, hands behind her head, ankles crossed, a huge dimpled smile on her face. She looked the color of frost in the darkness.

"Oh!” I gasped, nearly falling over.

"I'm sorry." She pressed her lips together, trying to hide her amusement.

"Just give me a minute to restart my heart."

She sat up—moving slowly like she did when she was either trying to act human or trying not to startle me—and dangled her legs over the edge of the bed. She patted the space next to her.

I walked unsteadily to the bed and sat down beside her. She put her hand on mine.

"How's the heart?"

"You tell me - I'm sure you hear it better than I do."

She laughed again; free, easy.

We sat there for a moment in silence, both listening to my heartbeat barely slow. Just as it was in the meadow, it felt like a miracle that she was still here. It was too perfect to be real, but her hand was as sturdy and cold as ever, the bed felt the same as it always had, just as real as the taste of lasagna lingering in my mouth. 

"Can I have a minute to be human?" I asked.

"Certainly." She gestured with one hand that I should proceed.

“You’ll be here when I get back, right?”

“I won’t move a muscle,” she promised.

She made a show of becoming motionless, a statue again, perched on the edge of my bed.

I hopped up, grabbing my pajamas from off the floor, my bag of toiletries off the desk. I left the light off and slipped out, closing the door. I banged the bathroom door loudly, so Charlie wouldn't come up to bother me.

I wanted to hurry, but I needed to calm down significantly if I wanted to avoid embarrassing myself. I brushed my teeth twice and washed my face with cool water, trying to will the red in my cheeks to subside. I wished I had something other than a holey t-shirt and old sweatpants to wear but it was probably dumb to worry if Edythe was already here every night. Remembering that fact brought another aggravating flush to my face. I yanked my hair back into a bun, skipping my usual shower for the sake of time.

When I opened the door, I had another small heart attack as I almost ran into Charlie at the top of the stairs.

“Oh, sorry, Bells. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

I took a deep breath. “I’m good.”

He looked at my pajamas, and then made a little harrumph sound in the back of his throat like he was surprised.

“You heading to bed, too?” I asked.

“Yeah, I guess. I’ve got an early one again tomorrow.”

“Alright, well, you have a good night, Dad”

I walked into my room, glad that the bed wasn’t visible from where Charlie was standing, then shut the door firmly behind me.

Edythe hadn’t moved even a fraction of an inch. I smiled and her lips twitched; she relaxed, and she was suddenly human again. Or close enough. I went back to sit next to her. She twisted to face me, pulling her legs up and crossing them.

She looked me up and down, taking in my tattered pajamas and messy hair, and raised one eyebrow. "Nice."

I grimaced.

"I mean it."

"Thanks," I whispered reaching out to grab her hand. A part of me was still expecting her to vanish into thin air. I squeezed tighter. If this was all some illusion I never wanted to leave.

“Your dad thinks you might be sneaking out,” she told me.

“I know. Apparently, I look keyed up.”

“Are you?”

“A little more than that, I think. Thank you. For staying.”

“It’s what I wanted, too.”

My heart started beating… not faster exactly, but stronger somehow. For some reason I would never understand, she wanted to be with me.

She leaned over, bringing her face slowly to mine, pressing her forehead against my temple. I held perfectly still.

It was difficult, while she was touching me, to frame a coherent question. It took me a minute of scattered concentration to begin.

"It seems to be... much easier for you, now, to be close to me."

“Does it seem easy to you?” It sounded like she was smiling.

Well,” I said breathlessly. Her lips were brushing the edge of my jaw. “It seems to be easier than it was this morning, at least.”

"Hmm."

"So I was wondering..." I began again, but her fingers were slowly tracing my collarbone, and I lost my train of thought.

"Yes?" she breathed.

"Why is that," my voice shook, embarrassing me, "do you think?"

“Mind over matter,” she breathed right into my ear.

I pulled back; as I moved, she froze - and I could no longer hear the sound of her breathing.

We stared cautiously at each other for a moment, and then, as her clenched jaw gradually relaxed, her expression became puzzled.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No - the opposite. You're driving me crazy," I explained. “Which, as far as I knew, you couldn’t… safely do.”

"Crazy?" A triumphant smile slowly lit her face.

"What, would you like a round of applause?" I asked sarcastically.

Her grinned widened. “It’s not any easier,” she finally answered. She inhaled sharply and looked down at our hands that were still intertwined. “But this afternoon… I was still undecided. I’m sorry, it was unforgivable for me to behave as I did.”

"Not unforgivable," I disagreed.

"Thank you." Her eyes flickered back up to me for one quick second. "You see; I wasn't sure if I was strong enough..." She pulled my hand towards her and pressed it lightly to her face. "And while there was still that possibility that I might be... overcome" - she breathed in the scent at my wrist - "I was... susceptible. Until I made up my mind that I was strong enough, that there was no possibility at all that I would... that I ever could..."

I'd never seen her struggle so hard for words. It was so... human.

"So there's no possibility now?"

"Mind over matter," she repeated, smiling, her teeth bright even in the darkness.

“Sounds easy,” I teased.

She threw back her head and laughed, quietly as a whisper, but still exuberantly.

"Easy for you!" she amended, touching my nose with her fingertip.

But then her face was abruptly serious.

"If it gets to be... too much, I'm fairly sure I'll be able to leave."

I scowled. I didn't like the talk of leaving.

"And it will be harder tomorrow," she continued. "I've had the scent of you in my head all day, and I've grown amazingly desensitized. If I'm away from you for any length of time, I'll have to start over again. Not quite from scratch, though, I think."

"Don't go away, then," I responded, unable to hide the longing in my voice.

Her face relaxed into a smile. “That suits me. Bring on the shackles—I am your prisoner.” But she laced her cold fingers around my wrist like a manacle as she spoke.

She chuckled. “It’s so strange,” she said. “You read about something, you watch it happen to other people… and it doesn’t prepare you even in the slightest for experiencing it yourself. The glory of first love. It’s more than I was expecting.”

"More forceful than I'd imagined," I agreed.

“And other emotions, too—jealousy, for example. I thought I understood that one clearly. I’ve read about it a hundred thousand times, seen actors portray it in a thousand plays and movies, listened to it in the minds around me daily—even felt it myself in a shallow way, wishing I had what I didn’t.… But I was shocked.” She scowled. "Do you remember the day that Mike asked you to the dance?"

I nodded, though I remembered that day for a different reason. "The day you started talking to me again."

"I was surprised by the flare of resentment, almost fury, that I felt - I didn't recognize what it was at first. I was even more aggravated than usual that I couldn't know what you were thinking, why you refused him. Was it simply for your friend's sake? Was there someone else? Or could it be for the reason I didn’t even realize I was hoping for until that moment? It was foolish, and I knew I had no right to care either way. I tried not to care.

"And then the line started forming," she chuckled.

"I waited, unreasonably anxious to hear what you would say to them, to watch your expressions. I couldn't deny the relief I felt, watching the annoyance on your face. But I still wasn’t certain _why_. That question soon overtook me until it was the only thing on my mind.

"That was the first night I came here. There was such turmoil in trying to find a place between what I knew was right, moral, and what I selfishly wished for. I knew that what I _should_ do was continue to ignore you, or leave for a few years until you were gone. You’d say yes to someone else eventually. But the idea of never seeing you again, or God forbid, getting a call from Alice telling me that another van had it in for you but this time it finished the job – it was too terrible.” She inhaled sharply and exhaled slowly, needing to calm herself. When she spoke again it was an even quieter whisper.

“But then as you were sleeping, you said my name. You spoke so clearly, at first I thought you'd woken. But you rolled over restlessly and mumbled my name once more, and sighed. Never had I felt such unnerving joy. I couldn't ignore you any longer.”

She was quiet for a moment, probably listening to the uneven pounding of my heart.

“It’s entirely irrational, the sheer amount of joy for such a trivial thing. Or perhaps ‘hope’ is a better term. I could have been content to let what I truly wanted remain a fantasy so long as I wasn’t ignoring you. But finding out it was possible! Such a shock to my system when you told me in Port Angeles. And just now, when you spoke with your father— “

"I should have known you'd be listening," I groaned.

"Of course,” she laughed. “He’d been waiting weeks to use that exact phrasing, thought it would lighten the conversation.”

“Of course,” I echoed. It was a surprise to find that I could completely relate to the strange sense of hope she was describing. I’d felt it that day in the cafeteria after Port Angeles, hearing that she felt the same way I did, even if it made no logical sense. Never in a million years would I have thought it would lead us to here, Edythe on my bed with me in her arms.

“All things considered, maybe it’s not that trivial,” I whispered.

"Maybe not." She was serious now, thoughtful. "For almost ninety years I've walked among my kind, and yours... all the time thinking that I was complete in myself, not realizing what I was seeking. And not finding anything, because you weren't alive yet."

"It hardly seems fair. I haven't had to wait at all. Why should I get off so easily?"

"You're right," she agreed with amusement. "I should make this harder for you, definitely." She freed one hand, releasing my wrist, only to gather it carefully into her other hand. She stroked my cheek softly, resting her hand on my chin. "You only have to risk your life every second you spend with me, that's surely not much. You only have to turn your back on nature, on humanity... what's that worth?"

"Very little - I don't feel deprived of anything."

Her expression fell and she pulled her hand away from my face. "Not yet."

"What -" I started to ask, but then her body was suddenly motionless. I froze, but she was gone, and I was starting at empty air.

“Lie down,” she hissed, but I couldn’t tell where she was in the darkness.

I rolled under my quilt, balling up on my side, the way I usually slept. I heard the door crack open, as Charlie peeked in to make sure I was where I was supposed to be. I breathed evenly, exaggerating the movement.

A long minute passed. I listened, not sure if I'd heard the door close. Then Edythe's cool arm was around me, under the covers, her lips at my ear.

"You are a terrible actress - I'd say that career path is out for you."

"Aw, damn," I muttered.

We lay there, in total stillness and silence with the exception of my heart crashing against my chest.

“Are you tired?”

"Right," I laughed. "Like I could sleep with you here!"

"You do it all the time," she reminded me.

"But I didn't know you were here."

“Fair point. So if you don’t want to sleep, what do you want to do, then?”

"I want to hear more about you."

"Ask me anything."

I sifted through my questions for the most vital. "Why do you do it?" I said. "I still don't understand how you can work so hard to resist what you... are. Please don't misunderstand, of course, I'm glad that you do. I just don't see why you would bother in the first place."

She hesitated before answering. "That's a good question, and you are not the first one to ask it. The others - the majority of our kind who are quite content with our lot - they, too, wonder at how we live. But you see, just because we've been... dealt a certain hand... it doesn't mean that we can't choose to rise above - to conquer the boundaries of a destiny that none of us wanted. To try to retain whatever essential humanity we can."

I lay unmoving, locked in awed silence. She was a better person than I would ever be.

"Did you fall asleep?" she whispered after a few minutes.

"No."

"Is that all you were curious about?"

I rolled my eyes. "Not quite."

"What else do you want to know?"

"Why can you read minds - why only you? And Alice, seeing the future... why does that happen?"

I felt her shrug in the darkness. "We don't really know. Carlisle has a theory... he believes that we all bring something of our strongest human traits with us into the next life, where they are intensified - like our minds and our senses. He thinks that I must have already been very sensitive to the thoughts of those around me. And that Alice had some precognition, wherever she was."

"What did he bring into the next life, and the others?"

"Carlisle brought his compassion. Esme brought her maternal instincts. Emmett has his strength, Rosalie her beauty. Or maybe her stubbornness is stronger." she chuckled. "Jasper is very interesting. He was quite charismatic in his first life, able to influence those around him to see things his way. Now he is able to manipulate the emotions of those around him - calm down a room of angry people, for example, or excite a lethargic crowd, conversely. It's a very subtle gift."

I considered the impossibilities she described, trying to take it in.

"So where did it all start? I mean, Carlisle changed you, and then someone must have changed him, and so on..."

"Well, where did you come from? Evolution? Creation? Couldn't we have evolved in the same way as other species, predator and prey? Or, if you don't believe that all this world could have just happened on its own, which is hard for me to accept myself, is it so hard to believe that the same force that created the delicate angelfish with the shark, the baby seal and the killer whale, could create both our kinds together?"

"Let me get this straight - I'm the baby seal, right?"

"Right." She laughed, and something touched my hair - her lips?

I wanted to turn toward her, to see if it was really her lips against my hair. But I had to be good; I didn't want to make this any harder for her than it already was.

"Are you ready to sleep?" she asked, interrupting the short silence. "Or do you have any more questions?"

"Only a million or two."

"We have tomorrow, and the next day, and the next..." she reminded me. I smiled, euphoric at the thought.

"Are you sure you won't vanish in the morning?" I wanted this to be certain. "You are mythical, after all."

"I won't leave you." Her voice had the seal of a promise in it.

"One more, then, tonight..." And I blushed. The darkness was no help - I'm sure she could feel the sudden warmth under my skin.

"What is it?"

"Nope, forget it. I changed my mind."

"Bella, you can ask me anything."

I didn't answer, and she groaned.

"I keep thinking it will get less frustrating, not hearing your thoughts. But it just gets worse and worse."

"I'm glad you can't read my thoughts. It's bad enough that you eavesdrop on my sleep-talking."

“Please tell me?” she murmured, her velvet voice taking on that mesmerizing intensity that I never could resist.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll just assume it’s something much worse than it is,” she threatened.

“I shouldn’t have brought it up,” I said, then locked my teeth.

“Please?”

"Well," I began, glad that she couldn't see my face. "You said that Rosalie and Emmett will get married soon... Is that... marriage... the same as it is for humans? I know legally and whatever that’s not possible for us which is stupid, but I care less about it in that sense and more wondering if that even means the same thing for vampires,” I stopped, the word accidentally slipping out in my anxiety.

Thankfully, it didn’t seem to faze Edythe. She laughed now, understanding my apprehension before. "Are you asking me about sex, Bella?”

My face flushed even more. “Yes, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.”

“I did climb into your bed. It’s hardly an unreasonable question.”

“I still feel bad.”

“I told you that you could ask me anything.” She sighed and began explaining. “So… in the general sense—Sex and Vampires One-Oh-One. We all started out human and most of those human desires are still there—just obscured behind more powerful desires. But we’re not thirsty all the time, and we tend to form… very strong bonds. Physical as well as emotional. Rosalie and Emmett are just like any human couple who are attracted to each other, by which I mean, very, very annoying for those of us who have to live with them, and even more so for the one who can hear their minds.”

I laughed quietly, and she joined in.

“Awkward,” I murmured.

“You have no idea,” she said through gritted teeth. “And now in the specific sense… Sex and Vampires One-Oh-Two: Bella and Edythe.” She sighed again, more slowly this time. “I don’t think… that would be possible for us.”

“Because it would be too hard for you? If I were that close?”

"That's certainly a problem. But that's not what I was thinking of. It's just that you are so fragile. I have to mind my actions every moment that we're together so that I don't hurt you. I could kill you quite easily simply by accident." Her voice had become just a soft murmur. She moved her icy palm to rest it against my cheek. "If for one second I wasn't paying enough attention, if I was at all distracted, I could reach out, meaning to touch your face and crush your skull by mistake. You don't realize how incredibly breakable you are. I can never, never afford to lose any kind of control when I'm with you."

She put her hand on my shoulder and let it trail slowly down my arm, leaving goosebumps. “And I’m afraid it would be very easy to become distracted.”

“I know I’m distracted by you,” I muttered.

“Can I ask you something now—something potentially offensive?”

“It’s your turn.”

“Do you have any experience with sex and humans?”

"Of course not." I flushed. "I told you I've never felt like this about anyone before, not even close."

"I know. It's just that I know other people's thoughts. I know love and lust don't always keep the same company."

"They do for me. Now, anyway, that they exist for me at all," I sighed.

"That's nice. We have that in common, at least."

“So, you do find me… distracting?”

“Absolutely.” She was smiling again. “Would you like me to tell you the things that distract me?”

“You don’t have to.”

“Your eyes were first. I thought if I stared at them long enough I might be able to hear what’s going on up here,” she laughed and kissed the top of my head again. “That was a fool’s errand, but there are worse things to waste one’s time doing. They’re absolutely beautiful. Deeper than a chocolate brown, but still warm. It struck me when you said your favorite color was brown, it’s quickly become my favorite as well.”

I didn’t know what to say. I was as surprised that she remembered that as I was to hear that she might find anything about me pretty.

“Then it was your collarbones. Or it could have been your shoulders? Once I discovered I was attracted to you beyond your scent it all fell into place rather quickly.”

I was about to chastise her for teasing me, but she cut me off.

“No, it was your hair! Did you know your hair is just precisely the same shade as a teak inlaid ceiling in a monastery I once stayed at in… I think it would be Cambodia now?”

“Okay, you’ve got to be making this up.”

“I most certainly am not.”

I yawned involuntarily.

"I've answered your questions, now you should sleep," she insisted.

"I'm not sure if I can."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No!" I said too loudly.

She laughed, and then began to hum a melody I didn't recognize; it sounded like a lullaby.

More tired than I realized, exhausted from the long day of mental and emotional stress like I'd never felt before, I drifted to sleep in her cold arms.


	16. THE CULLENS

The muted light of yet another cloudy day eventually woke me. I lay with my arm across my eyes, groggy and dazed. Something, a dream trying to be remembered, struggled to break into my consciousness. I rolled on my side, hoping more sleep would come.

And then the previous day flooded back into my awareness.

"Oh!" I sat up so fast it made my head spin.

"Your hair looks like a haystack... but I like it." Her teasing voice came from lower than I expected; it took me a moment to find her sitting on the floor at the foot of my bed.

"You stayed!" I rejoiced and rolled out of bed to sit next to her. It was an automatic reaction; my body knew before my mind that I needed to be closer to her. I wasn’t far enough awake to feel embarrassed about my enthusiasm. Luckily, Edythe didn’t seem to mind.

“Of course. That’s what you wanted, correct?”

I nodded.

She smiled wider. “It’s what I wanted, too.”

I laid my head cautiously against her shoulder, and she gently put her arm around my waist.

"I was sure it was a dream."

"You're not that creative," she scoffed.

We sat for a moment, peaceful in the silence. That is until a sudden sense of panic hit in the pit of my stomach and I scrambled to my feet.

"Shit- Charlie!" I brought my voice back to a whisper, hoping he hadn’t yet gotten up. 

"We’re fine. He left an hour ago - after reattaching your battery cables, I might add. I have to admit I was disappointed. Is that really all it would take to stop you if you were determined to go?"

I deliberated where I stood, wanting to return to her badly, but afraid I might have morning breath.

"You're not usually this confused in the morning," she noted. She held her arms open, a nearly irresistible invitation.

"I need another human minute," I admitted.

"I'll wait."

I went to my dresser and grabbed the first things I could reach before running to the bathroom. I threw the shower on immediately, not wanting to miss a second more than I needed. My hair tie had been lost somewhere in the sheets overnight, leaving my hair a tangled mess. I took my brush into the shower, ripping the conditioner through the ends. I got out as quickly as I could, shoving my toothbrush into my mouth as I got dressed. I’d ended up with a blue top and light jeans, not the worst combination in the world. The blow-dryer tried its best, but it was the one part I couldn’t force a faster pace. I spent the time trying to get my breathing back to normal, to no avail. My hair was still mostly damp, but it was going to have to be good enough. I darted back to my room.

Edythe was still there, now sitting on top of my bed. She stretched a hand out toward me and I took it immediately.

"Welcome back," she said with a smile, taking me into her arms.

She held me close for one long perfect moment, my head resting on her shoulder, until I noticed that her clothes were changed, her hair lying flat instead of the ponytail she had last night. 

"You left?" I accused, touching the collar of her shirt.

"I could hardly leave in the clothes I came in - what would the neighbors think? In any case, you were very deeply asleep at that point, so I know I didn’t miss anything. The talking came earlier."

I groaned. "What did you hear?"

Her gold eyes grew very soft. “You said you loved me,” she whispered.

"You knew that already," I reminded her, ducking my head.

"It was nice to hear, just the same."

I looked back up into her eyes.

"I love you," I whispered.

"You are my life now," she answered simply.

There was nothing more to say for the moment. Her hand moved gently up and down my arm as the room grew lighter. We sat like that for a long time, until finally my stomach grumbled. She shifted her position, laughing.

"Breakfast time?" she asked sarcastically, poking fun at the reminder of my mortality.

I clutched my throat with both hands and stared at her with wide eyes. Horror crossed her face.

"Kidding!" I cackled. "And you said I couldn't act!"

Her lips were pressed together, either in a grimace or an attempt not to smile. I hoped it was the latter. When she spoke it was through gritted teeth. "That wasn't funny."

"It was extremely funny, and you know it." But I examined her gold eyes carefully, to make sure that I was forgiven. Apparently, I was.

"Shall I rephrase?" she asked. "Breakfast time for the human."

"Oh, okay."

I got off the bed before her, but she moved past me in a blur, making it downstairs first. The light of the morning did not make her presence in the mundane kitchen any less surreal. She stood, beaming my favorite smile, gesturing to the chair she had pulled out for me.

"What's for breakfast?" I asked pleasantly.

That threw her for a minute. Her brows pulled together. “I’m not sure.… What would you like?”

I laughed. “That’s all right, I fend for myself pretty well. You’re allowed to watch me hunt.”

I found a bowl and a box of cereal. I could feel her eyes on me as I poured the milk and grabbed a spoon. I sat my food on the table and then paused.

"Can I get you anything?" I asked, not wanting to be rude.

She rolled her eyes. "Just eat, Bella."

I sat at the table, watching her as I took a bite. She was staring right back, studying my every movement. It made me self-conscious. I cleared my mouth to speak, to distract her.

“Anything on the agenda today?”

“Maybe,” she said. “That depends on whether or not you like my idea.”

“I’ll like it,” I promised as I took a second bite.

She pursed her lips. “Are you open to meeting my family?”

I gulped, nearly choking on my cereal.

"Are you afraid now?" She sounded hopeful.

"Yes."

"Don't worry." She smirked. "I'll protect you."

"I'm not afraid of them in that way," I explained. "I'm afraid they won't... like me. Won't they be, well, surprised that you would bring someone... like me... home to meet them? Human or girl, you can take your pick for which one’s worse,” I looked away, trying to consider which her family would find more offensive. “Do they know that I know about them?"

"Oh, they already know everything. They'd taken bets yesterday, you know" - she smiled, but her voice was harsh - "on whether I'd bring you back, though why anyone would bet against Alice, I can't imagine. At any rate, we don't have secrets in the family. It's not really feasible, what with my mind reading and Alice seeing the future and all that."

"And Jasper making you feel all warm and fuzzy about spilling your guts, don't forget that."

"You paid attention," she smiled approvingly.

"I've been known to do that now and then." I grimaced. "So did Alice see me coming?"

"Is that any good?" she asked, eyeing my breakfast with a teasing look on her face and completely ignoring my question. "Honestly, it doesn't look very appetizing."

"Well, it's no irritable grizzly..." I murmured, my mind drifting to our first conversation about preferences with bears. I imagined Emmett and his alarming stature… did he really prefer me dead?

“Which way did everyone side?” I asked.  
  
“Hmm?”

“Who bet that I wouldn’t be around today?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Do you really want to know?”

I chickened out. “Eh, maybe not. Tell me after I meet them. I don’t want to go into this biased.”

Surprise washed over her face. “You’ll go, then?”

“It seems like the respectful thing to do. I don’t want to give them any more reason to hate me.”

She sat down in the chair next to me, reaching across the table to place her palm on my spoon-free hand. “They don’t hate you,” she insisted. Her serious expression quickly shifted to her lopsided smirk. “They know they’d be in serious trouble if they thought anything remotely close to that.” She laughed, a long, bell-like peal. I couldn’t help but smile.

“So if you’ll go, can I get to meet Charlie, too?” she asked eagerly. “He’s already suspicious, and I’d rather not give him any reason to dislike me, either.”

“I mean, sure, but what should we tell him? I mean, how do I explain…?”

She shrugged. “I doubt he’ll struggle too hard with the idea of your having a girlfriend. Though it’s a loose interpretation of the word girl, I’ll admit.”

“Girlfriend,” I mumbled. “It sounds… not enough.” Mostly, it sounded temporary.

She stroked one finger down the side of my face. “Well, I don’t know if we need to give him _all_ the gory details, but he will need some explanation for why I’m around here so much. I don’t want Chief Swan putting a restraining order on me.”

“Will you really be here?” I asked, suddenly anxious.

“As long as you want me.”

“I’ll always want you,” I warned her. “I’m talking about forever here.”

Her finger rested against my lips, and her eyes closed. It was almost like she wished I hadn’t said that.

“Does that make you… sad?” I asked, trying to put a name to the expression on her face. Sad seemed closest. Her eyes opened slowly. She didn’t answer, she just stared into my eyes for a long time. Finally, she sighed.

"Shall we get going, then?” she finally asked.

“Oh.” Once again, she forced the conversation to a close without answering any of my questions. I could only hope I’d get them out of her sooner than later. Today was going to be stressful enough without starting some kind of fight.

I threw my dishes into the sink, too anxious to spend the time to wash them. In another one of her impossible movements, she was instantly next to me, leaning back against the counter.

“Do I look okay?” I wondered, gesturing to my clothes. 

She smiled and shook her head. “You are so far beyond simply ‘okay,’ Bella.”

I rolled my eyes. “You all probably live in a mansion or something. I don’t have anything fancy enough for that, the fanciest thing I own is probably from Kohl’s.”

She pulled me closer, her hands on my waist, and I could instantly feel my face flush.

"You are so absurd." She pressed her cool lips delicately to my forehead, and the room spun.

“Carefully this time, please,” she whispered. She tilted her head to the side and closed the distance between us. With the lightest pressure, her lips touched mine.

It was a monumental effort not to lose control of myself again, even more so when one of her hands grazed slowly up my spine. As Edythe got more sure of herself, her lips were firmer. I felt them part slightly, and her breath washed cool across my mouth. I knew I couldn’t inhale without losing my focus.

Her other hand came up and rested on my cheek and then hooked under my jaw and pulled my lips tighter to hers.

I tried to remind myself to stay calm, but it was hard to hear my own thoughts over the ringing in my ears.

And then I collapsed.

"Bella? Are you all right?” The sound of her anxiety helped bring me around. I didn’t feel like I had been out long at all, it didn’t seem as though I even made it all the way to the ground.

“I’m fine,” I told her. She was leaning away, but her arms were stretched out to me; I leaned forward into her shoulder, trying to lose the vertigo. “I think I forgot to breathe for a minute there. I’m sorry.”

“You forgot to breathe?”

“I was trying to be careful.”

"What am I going to do with you?" she groaned in exasperation. "Yesterday I kiss you, and you attack me! Today you pass out on me!"

I laughed weakly, letting her arms support me while my head spun.

“It’s a good thing that it’s physically impossible for me to have a heart attack,” she grumbled.

“That is good,” I agreed.

“I can’t take you anywhere like this.”

"I'm fine," I insisted. And I did feel much better, I could hold my own weight again. Edythe seemed less worried than before too, if only slightly. "Your family is going to think I'm insane anyway, so what’s the difference if I’m a little unsteady?”

She frowned. “You mean more unsteady than usual?”

“Sure. Look, I'm trying really hard not to think about what I'm about to do, so can we go already?"

"And you're worried, not because you're about to meet a houseful of vampires, but because you think those vampires won't approve of you, correct?"

"Yes, exactly, got it in one," I answered immediately, surprised at her casual use of the word.

She shook her head. "You're incredible."

This time she didn’t even ask, she just headed straight for the driver’s side of my truck. I figured there was no point in arguing after my latest embarrassing episode, and regardless, I had no idea where she lived.

She drove respectfully, without any complaints about what my truck could handle. She took us north out of town, over the bridge at the Calawah River, and continued till we were past all the houses and on to close-packed trees. I was starting to wonder how far we were going when she abruptly steered right onto an unpaved road. The turnoff was unmarked, and almost totally hidden by thick ferns. The forest encroached on both sides, leaving the road ahead only discernible for a few meters as it twisted, serpent-like, around the ancient trees.

And then, after a few miles, there was some thinning of the woods, and we were suddenly in a small meadow, or was it actually a lawn? The gloom of the forest didn't relent, though, due to six enormous cedars that shaded an entire acre with their vast sweep of branches. The trees held their protecting shadow right up to the walls of the house that rose among them, making obsolete the deep porch that wrapped around the first story.

I don't know what I had expected, but it definitely wasn't this. The house was timeless, graceful, and probably a hundred years old. It was painted a soft, faded white, three stories tall, rising elegantly through the branches. The windows and doors were either part of the original structure or a perfect restoration. My truck was the only car in sight. I could hear the river close by, hidden in the obscurity of the forest.

"Wow."

"You like it?"

"It... this is real?" Like everything else with her, it seemed too beautiful to be true.

She chuckled. “As real as the rest of it.” Suddenly she was outside my door. I opened it slowly, starting to feel the nerves I’d been trying to suppress. "Are you ready?"

"Not even a little bit - let's go." I tried to laugh, but it seemed to get stuck in my throat. I smoothed my hair nervously.

"You look lovely." She took my hand easily, without thinking about it.

We walked through the deep shade up to the porch. I knew she could feel my tension; her thumb rubbed soothing circles into the back of my hand.

She opened the front door and walked inside, towing me behind her.

The inside was even more surprising, less predictable, than the exterior. It must have originally been several rooms, but the walls had been removed from most of the first floor to create one wide space. The back, south-facing wall had been entirely replaced with glass, and, beyond the shade of the cedars, the lawn stretched bare to the wide river. A massive curving staircase dominated the west side of the room. The walls, the high-beamed ceiling, the wooden floors, and the thick carpets were all varying shades of white. It was much larger- and far brighter- than I had been expecting.

Waiting to greet us, standing just to the left of the door, on a raised portion of the floor by a spectacular grand piano, were Edythe's parents.

I'd seen Dr. Cullen before, of course, yet I couldn't help but be struck again by his youth, his outrageous perfection. At his side was Esme, I assumed, the only one of the family I'd never seen before. She had the same perfect features as the rest of them, but smaller, less angular than the others. Something about her heart-shaped face, her billows of soft, caramel-colored hair, reminded me of the ingénues of the silent-movie era. They were both dressed casually, in light colors that matched the inside of the house. They smiled in welcome but made no move to approach us. Probably trying not to frighten me.

"Carlisle, Esme," Edythe's voice broke the short silence, "this is Bella."

"You're very welcome, Bella." Carlisle's step was measured, careful as he approached me. He raised his hand tentatively, and I stepped forward to shake it.

"It's nice to see you again, Dr. Cullen."

"Please, call me Carlisle."

"Carlisle." I grinned at him, my sudden confidence surprising me. Edythe squeezed my hand lightly.

Esme smiled and stepped forward as well, reaching for my hand. Her cold, stone grasp was just as I expected.

"It's very nice to know you," she said sincerely.

"Thank you. I'm glad to meet you, too." And I was. It was like meeting a fairy tale - Snow White, in the flesh.

"Where are Alice and Jasper?" Edythe asked, but no one answered, as they had just appeared at the top of the wide staircase.

"Hey, Edythe!" Alice called enthusiastically. She ran down the stairs, a streak of black hair and white skin, coming to a sudden and graceful stop in front of me. Carlisle and Esme shot warning glances at her, but I liked it. It was natural - for her, anyway.

"Hi, Bella!" Alice said, and she bounced forward to kiss my cheek. If Carlisle and Esme had looked cautious before, they now looked staggered. There was shock in my eyes, too, but I was also very pleased that she seemed to approve of me so entirely. Edythe’s jaw was locked, but I couldn’t tell if she was worried or mad.

"You do smell nice, I never noticed before," she commented, to my extreme embarrassment.

No one else seemed to know quite what to say, and then Jasper was there - tall and imposing. Despite his striking presence, a feeling of ease spread through me. Edythe stared at Jasper, raising one eyebrow, and I remembered what Jasper could do.

"Hello, Bella," Jasper said. He kept his distance, not offering to shake my hand. But it was impossible to feel awkward near him.

"Hello, Jasper." I smiled at him shyly, and then at the others. "It's nice to meet you all - you have a very beautiful home."

"Thank you," Esme said. "We're so glad that you came." She was looking at me with an admiration I didn’t fully understand. Maybe she, like Edythe, expected me to be fearful in the supernatural sense.

Of course, Emmett and Rosalie were nowhere to be seen. At least I didn’t have to ask Edythe about the bet again, it seemed obvious which way that had gone.

Carlisle's expression caught my gaze; he was gazing meaningfully at Edythe with an intense expression. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edythe nod once.

I looked away, trying to be polite. My eyes wandered again to the beautiful instrument on the platform by the door. I suddenly remembered my childhood fantasy that, should I ever win the lottery, I would buy a grand piano for my mother. She wasn't really good - she only played for herself on our secondhand upright - but I loved to watch her play. She tried to put me through lessons, of course, but like most kids, I whined until she let me quit.

Esme noticed my distraction.

"Do you play?" she asked, inclining her head toward the piano.

I shook my head. "Not at all. But it's beautiful. Is it yours?"

"No," she laughed. "Edythe didn't tell you she was musical?"

"No." I glared at her suddenly innocent expression with narrowed eyes. "I should have known, I guess."

Esme raised her delicate eyebrows in confusion.

"Edythe can do everything, right?"

Jasper snickered and Esme gave Edythe a disapproving look.

"I hope you haven't been showing off- it's rude," she scolded.

"Just a bit." Edythe laughed—the sound was infectious, and everyone smiled, including me. Esme smiled the widest, though, and she and Edythe shared a brief look I once again didn’t understand.

"She's been too modest, actually," I corrected.

"Well, play for her," Esme encouraged.

"You just said showing off was rude."

"There are exceptions to every rule," she replied.

"I'd like to hear you play," I volunteered.

"It's settled then." Esme pushed her toward the piano. Edythe pulled me along, sitting me on the bench beside her.

She gave me a long, exasperated look before she turned to the keys.

And then her fingers flowed swiftly across the ivory, filling the room with a piece so complex and full it was impossible to believe only one person was playing. My mouth fell open in shock, and I heard chuckling behind me.

Edythe looked at me casually, the music still surging around us without a break, and winked. "Do you like it?"

"You wrote this?" I gasped, understanding.

She nodded. "It's Esme's favorite."

I closed my eyes, shaking my head.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm feeling extremely insignificant."

The music slowed, transforming into something softer… something familiar. It was the lullaby she’d hummed to me, only a thousand times more intricate.

"You inspired this one," she said softly. The music grew unbearably sweet.

I couldn't speak.

"They like you, you know," she said conversationally. "Esme especially."

I glanced behind me, but the huge room was empty now.

"Where did they go?"

“Giving us some privacy. Subtle, aren’t they?”

I sighed. "They might like me. But Rosalie and Emmett..." I trailed off, not sure how to express my doubts.

She frowned. "Don't worry about Rosalie, she'll come around."

I pursed my lips skeptically. "Emmett?"

"Well, he thinks I'm a lunatic, but that’s nothing new. He doesn't have any problem with you. He's trying to reason with Rosalie."

"What is it that upsets her?" I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the answer.

She sighed deeply. "Rosalie struggles the most with... with what we are. It's hard for her to have someone on the outside know the truth. And she's a little jealous."

"Rosalie is jealous of me?" I asked incredulously. I tried to imagine a universe in which someone as breathtaking as Rosalie would have any possible reason to feel jealous of someone like me.

"You're human." She shrugged. "She wishes that she were, too."

"Oh," I muttered, still stunned. "Even Jasper, though..."

"That's really my fault," she said. "I told you he was the most recent to try our way of life. I warned him to keep his distance."

I thought about the reason for that, and shuddered.

"Esme and Carlisle...?" I continued quickly, to keep her from noticing.

"Are happy to see me happy. Esme wouldn't care if you had a third eye and webbed feet. She’s been worried about me for so long, thinking I’d resigned myself to remaining unpartnered. Or worse, that there would never be anyone for me to find. So she’s ecstatic, to say the least. Every time I touch you, she just about bursts into applause."

"Alice seems very... enthusiastic."

"Alice has her own way of looking at things," she said through tight lips.

"And you're not going to explain that, are you?"

Our eyes met as a moment of wordless communication passed between us. I could see her recognize that I knew she was keeping something from me. I realized that she wasn't going to give anything away. Not now.

"So what was Carlisle telling you before?"

Her eyebrows pulled together. "You noticed that, too?"

I shrugged. "I catch on quickly."

She looked at me thoughtfully for a few seconds before answering. "He wanted to tell me some news - he didn't know if it was something I would share with you."

"Will you?"

“It’s probably a good idea. My behavior might be a little… odd for the next few days—or weeks. A little maniacal. So it’s best if I explain myself beforehand.”

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, exactly. Alice just sees some visitors coming soon. They know we're here, and they're curious."

"Visitors?"

"Yes... well, they aren't like us, of course - in their hunting habits, I mean. They probably won't come into town at all, but I'm certainly not going to let you out of my sight till they're gone."

I shivered.

"Finally, a rational response!" she murmured. "I was beginning to think you had no sense of self-preservation at all."

I let that one pass, looking away, my eyes wandering again around the spacious room.

“It’s not what you expected, is it?” she asked, and her voice was amused again.

"No," I admitted.

"No coffins, no piled skulls in the corners; I don't even think we have cobwebs... what a disappointment this must be for you."

I ignored her teasing. “I didn’t expect it to be so light and so… open.”

She was more serious when she answered. “It’s the one place we never have to hide.”

The song she was still playing, my song, drifted to an end, the final chords shifting to a melancholy key. The last note hovered poignantly in the silence.

"Thank you," I murmured. I realized there were tears in my eyes. I dabbed at them, embarrassed.

It seemed like the music had affected her, too. She stared at me for a long moment, and then she shook her head and sighed.

“Would you like to see the rest of the house?” she asked.

“Will there be piled skulls in any corners?”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Well, alright, but my expectations are pretty low now.”

We walked up the massive staircase, my hand trailing along the satin-smooth rail. The long hall at the top of the stairs was paneled with honey-colored wood, the same as the floorboards.

"Rosalie and Emmett's room... Carlisle's office... Alice's room..." She gestured as he led me past the doors.

She would have continued, but I stopped dead at the end of the hall, staring at the ornament hanging on the wall above my head. Edythe chuckled at my bewildered expression.

"You can laugh," she said. "It is sort of ironic."

I didn't laugh. My hand raised automatically, one finger extended as if to touch the large wooden cross, its dark patina contrasting with the lighter tone of the wall. I didn't touch it, though I was curious if the aged wood would feel as silky as it looked.

"It must be very old," I guessed.

She shrugged. "Early sixteen-thirties, more or less."

"Why do you keep this here?"

"Nostalgia. It belonged to Carlisle's father."

I stared at the cross, dumbstruck. I could do the math, I knew what it meant, but I couldn’t form the next thought. The silence stretched on as I struggled to wrap my mind around the concept of so many years.

"Are you all right?" She sounded worried.

I couldn’t make my voice much louder than a whisper.

“How old is Carlisle?"

"He just celebrated his three hundred and sixty-second birthday," Edythe said. I looked back at her, a million questions in my eyes.

She watched me carefully as he spoke.

"Carlisle was born in London, in the sixteen-forties, he believes. Time wasn't marked as accurately then, for the common people anyway. It was just before Cromwell's rule, though."

I kept my face composed, aware of her scrutiny as I listened. It was easier if I didn't try to believe.

"He was the only son of an Anglican pastor. His mother died giving birth to him. His father was an intolerant man. As the Protestants came into power, he was enthusiastic in his persecution of Roman Catholics and other religions. He also believed very strongly in the reality of evil. He led hunts for witches, werewolves... and vampires." I grew very still at the word. I'm sure she noticed, but she went on without pausing.

"They burned a lot of innocent people - of course, the real creatures that he sought were not so easy to catch.

"When the pastor grew old, he placed his obedient son in charge of the raids. At first, Carlisle was a disappointment; he was not quick to accuse, to see demons where they did not exist. But he was persistent, and more clever than his father. He actually discovered a coven of true vampires that lived hidden in the sewers of the city, only coming out by night to hunt. In those days, when monsters were not just myths and legends, that was the way many lived.

"The people gathered their pitchforks and torches, of course" - her brief laugh was darker now - "and waited where Carlisle had seen the monsters exit into the street. Eventually one emerged."

I realized I was holding my breath again and made myself exhale.

"He must have been ancient, and weak with hunger. Carlisle heard him call out in Latin to the others when he caught the scent of the mob. He ran through the streets, and Carlisle - he was twenty-three and very fast - was in the lead of the pursuit. The creature could have easily outrun them, but Carlisle thinks he was too hungry, so he turned and attacked. He fell on Carlisle first, but the others were close behind, and he turned to defend himself. He killed two men, and made off with a third, leaving Carlisle bleeding in the street."

She paused. I could sense she was editing something, keeping something from me again.

"Carlisle knew what his father would do. The bodies would be burned - anything infected by the monster must be destroyed. Carlisle acted instinctively to save his own life. He crawled away from the alley while the mob followed the fiend and his victim. He hid in a cellar, buried himself in rotting potatoes for three days. It's a miracle he was able to keep silent, to stay undiscovered.

"It was over then, and he realized what he had become."

I'm not sure what my face was revealing, but she suddenly broke off.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"I'm fine," I assured her. And, though I bit my lip in hesitation, she must have seen the curiosity burning in my eyes.

She smiled. "I expect you have a few more questions for me."

"Just a few."

Her smile widened over her brilliant teeth. She started back down the hall, pulling me along by the hand. "Come on, then," she said, "I'll show you."


End file.
